


Hell is in the Details

by spikes_heart



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 51,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikes_heart/pseuds/spikes_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike resurrects corporeally and Angel can’t take it anymore. He betrays his childe in the worst ways possible: by selling him out of the family into slavery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A House Divided

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 1 – A House Divided**

Three weeks ago he’d brought Wolfram & Hart’s amulet to Buffy, intent on wearing it to help in battle.

Three weeks ago she’d taken it and given it to Spike, and sent him back to L.A. – to be second string if they failed to defeat the First Evil.

Two and a half weeks since he learned of Spike’s demise in the closing of the Hellmouth, and the survival of mostly everyone else.

One week since Buffy and the original Scoobies headed off to England for a fresh start and a new life… without _him_.

Two days since Spike reappeared in his office, duster and all, in a screaming swirl of black ash and lightning when the amulet fell out of an unmarked envelope addressed to him.

Two days marked by a fist smashing into Angel’s jaw as the blonde’s first act upon returning to this plane of existence.

Forty eight hours later, and Angel’s already had enough.

“What the fuck do you want out of me, Spike? I don’t want you here. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. And no way in fucking hell am I giving you Buffy’s address.” Of course, Angel didn’t have it to give, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “She’s well rid of you and your obsession. Why don’t you go out and play in the sunshine? You should be used to the burning by now.”

“You don’t have the teensiest bit of respect for me, you bastard!” Spike roared. “I’ve got a soul, same as you. I saved the bleedin’ world _again_ at the cost of my unlife. It’s not my fault I’m back here. Given my druthers, I’d be at rest. Can certainly understand why the Slayer…”

“Not one more word out of your mouth, boy!” Angel body slammed Spike against the wall, wrapping his hands around the slim neck and cutting off his airway so he couldn’t draw enough breath to speak.

Breaking the elder vampire’s hold easily, Spike put some distance between them. He stood for a moment, panting in an attempt to re-open his airway and make speech possible.

“You keep your bloody paws off me, you tosser. M’not some damned fledge for you to Lord an’ Master over anymore. I’ve got as much right to be here as you, and can say any damned thing I’ve got a mind to.”

“You always thought you were worth something, didn’t you, boy? So full of yourself and your antics. I hate to break it to you, but you’re still the same useless piece of trash Drusilla left half-drained in that damned barn. You were made to be used. Darla and I used you, Dru used you and we all left you.

“As for Buffy? That little girl never wanted you. She used you like everyone else. Gave you that damned amulet because you were expendable and we didn’t know what it would do to the bearer. She sent me home to be safe and didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died. When she left here last week, she was relieved that you were gone.”

Angel paced around his desk, growing angrier by the second. Buffy’s voice in his head added fuel to his ire. ‘He’s in my heart, Angel.’ ‘He has a soul, Angel.’ ‘He’s changed, Angel. ‘He saved us all, Angel.’ ‘I miss him, Angel.’ Each statement felt like a blow to his body.

He strode over to Spike, grabbed the lapels of his duster and pulled him in close, shaking the smaller man like a rag doll. “You have no place here, Spike. No friends, nobody who can stand to be around you for more than five minutes, no family willing to claim you. Why.Are.You.Here?”

“You can’t pick your family, Sire,” Spike spat. “Oh wait – you can! Unliving proof right here.” A sharp twist of his torso and he broke free from Angel’s grasp once more. “I thought we might be able to work things out between us, being family and all. No amount of your bitching can change that.”

Angel stopped in his tracks. Archaic vampire lore had been Angelus’ forte, drummed into him by Darla and he hadn’t forgotten a single by-law. Could he…? No – it’s just not done. In vampiric circles it’s considered the final insult and beyond cruel to do it to childer.

Oh, but the lure of being free of Spike once and for all was too great. He couldn’t dust him outright. First of all, there was no longer any cause – Spike was ensouled, same as Angel, and he no longer killed humans. Second, if Buffy ever found out – well, Buffy never had to know Spike had returned, much less… This was the only way to go, he decided. The time to act was now.

Spike was distracted. Having heard nothing from Angel in the past few moments, he made the false assumption that their argument had run its course and turned his back on the elder vampire.

In that moment, Angel picked up the tranquilizer gun he always kept loaded in his desk drawer, and fired three darts into the unsuspecting blonde’s back.

Spike managed to turn around, a look of utter betrayal on his face, before his eyes rolled back in his head and his legs gave way. He crumpled to the carpet in a heap.

Angel moved swiftly and secured the younger vampire’s hands behind his back with a pair of handcuffs. He tied his ankles together with a length of rope, threading the loose end through the handcuffs. A sharp yank bent his legs at the knees, and the rope was looped around Spike’s waist several times, resulting in one hogtied vampire.

A quick call to the legal department, circumventing Gunn, resulted in the paperwork Angel requested being drawn up and brought to the office. A flick of the wrist with a hidden stake dusted the unsuspecting vampire lawyer/messenger – one more loose thread dealt with. A second call confirmed his plan could be set in motion.

Rolling his unconscious childe in one of the Persian rugs decorating his office suite, Angel conceded the loss of the rug as a fair sacrifice to the cause. Hoisting the roll onto his shoulder and pocketing the legal form, he took his private elevator down to the garage, stowing the rug in the trunk of his car.

Sitting in the car, stuck in the ever-present traffic that snarled Los Angeles streets, the vampire had time to think his actions through. What he was about to do was irrevocable. Spike would be cast out of the Order of Aurelius, and dust soon after. His name and history would pass into oblivion, eventually wiped from the memories of the demon population. William the Bloody would become a cipher – a non-entity.

With a sneer curling his lip, Angel made up his mind. He would do this, and forget Spike ever existed.

He pulled into the shaded delivery platform of Dante’s, an exclusive demons only bar in one of the rougher areas of L.A. This further ensured none of his friends would ever track him here, keeping his transaction private.

The manager of Dante’s, a S’lugith demon named Pret, met Angel at the door, sending out a bouncer to retrieve the rug from the truck.

“Just toss him into the back room, and lock the door. I’ll be in to deal with him shortly. Do _not_ unroll him.”

He turned to Angel, hand out.

The vampire removed the document from his jacket pocket, handing it over the demon.

“Just so we’re perfectly clear here, Pret,” he said. “This is a legal document drawn up by the lawyers at Wolfram & Hart. This is legally binding here and in any other known universe and dimension. I relinquish Sire’s Rights to my get, one William the Bloody, currently known as Spike. For the agreed upon purchase price of one dollar, he is removed from the Order of Aurelius and henceforth will no longer be acknowledged as ours.”

“The souled vampire is now mine? To do with as I please?”

“You can dust him the moment I get back in my car. He’s no longer any concern of mine.”

Angel turned his back on the S’lugith and strode to his car.

He never once looked back.


	2. Abandon All Hope

**Hell Is In The Details – Chapter 2 – Abandon All Hope**

_This is just too good to be true_ ,’ Pret thought, looking at what amounted to a bill of sale. ‘I _own_ an Aurelian vampire – correction – an ex-Aurelian vampire. With a soul. It’s just too delicious for words.’

When Angel called with the offer of dumping one of his get at Dante’s doorsteps, the demon had instantly come up with the idea of a demonic tournament. The winner got to kill one of only two souled vampires in all of creation. A traitor to demon kind. It didn’t matter if he was one-legged and wrinkled – he would be a magnificent draw to Dante’s and the money would come pouring in.

He was rather surprised that one souled vampire would sell another, especially his own childe, but Pret wasn’t about to question his own good fortune.

His plan went right out the window at the first glance of the trussed up vampire on his floor. He was pretty, all pale muscle and hair. Lifting his shirt, he noted Spike’s skin seemed to be unmarked. He couldn’t wait to get a good look at all his money had bought, but was wary of releasing the ropes. Even handcuffed, he was sure the blonde’s strength would become an issue if the sedative wore off.

Calling in two of his musclemen to hold the vampire securely, Pret removed first the duster and then the Docs, followed by the jeans. He paused to appreciate the vampire’s impressively semi-hard cock nestled in its bed of dark blond curls. He lifted it gently, feeling the heavy weight of the organ in his hands before moving on to cut off Spike’s t-shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands up and down the well-sculpted pecs and abs of his latest acquisition. “I’m gonna have to make other plans for you, lovely one. You’re too pretty for a quick slaughter.”

Spike remained on the rug he’d been transported in, silent and unmoving. He’d begun the rise to consciousness, but was too weak and disoriented to take a chance on letting them know he was aware of his surroundings. Patience might be the order of the day, so he kept still.

With a silent motion to his men, Spike was unceremoniously hauled upright and dragged over to the back wall of the little room. The handcuffs were released.

Spike’s arms were drawn over his head, manacles attached and locked onto a ring sunk deep into the wall. His ankles were treated to the same manacles, legs drawn apart, and fastened to rings on the floor, displaying him for Pret’s perusal.

“I know you’re awake, little love,” the demon crooned. Gonna make sure you’re all tightly held in place until I can decide what’s best for you. You’re mine now – to do with as I please. You’re a present all wrapped up in pretty white muscle and I need to see more of you.

His ruse blown, Spike’s eyes opened, anger flashing as he got a clear view of Pret for the first time. The S’lugith demon could pass for human, mostly – about six feet tall with an excess of red hair on his face and hands. Two little horns were hidden under the hair on his head, and if Spike could remember his demons correctly, a stubby tail was contained under his clothing,.

“Just warning you, pretty. Open that mouth once when not ordered to, and I’ll gag you. Don’t want the patrons put off their food and drink, do we now?”

Pret grabbed a pillow from a nearby cot, and shoved it in between Spike’s ass and the wall, forcing his groin forward. One of the musclemen returned with a basin of water, a can of shaving cream and a straight razor, handing both to the S’lugith before retreating from the room and closing the door behind him.

“Told you I need to see more of you, and I do suggest you stay as still as possible. Wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise before getting some use out of it.”

Taking the washcloth out of the basin, Pret ran it over the vampire’s pubic hair, moistening it in preparation for removal. He applied the shaving cream with his hands, to groin and testicles – stroking longer than necessary, taking obvious pleasure in handling Spike’s genitals.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Spike wondered. Other than the obvious, of course. What did that bastard mean about owning him? The last thing he remembered was being shot in the back by Angel. Clearly that wanker was at the bottom of all this. He closed his eyes, silently submitting to this latest humiliation.

At the first press of the razor against flesh, Pret began to speak again.

“All that pretty white skin just waiting to be uncovered. _scrape_ Want to know how you came to be mine, sweet thing?” _scrape_ With a handful of Spike’s cock pulled upwards for better access to his balls, the demon paused, looking directly into the vampire’s eyes.

Lips pressed tightly together, Spike nodded.

“Your Sire sold your ass to me. For the princely sum of one dollar, you are no longer part of the Order of Aurelius, and I have the paperwork to prove it. Gonna frame that paper and hang it up front along with your duster. What was yours is now mine. _You_ are mine.”

“No!” Spike protested.

But he knew it to be the truth.

 _Shit, shit, shit! The fucker had really gone and sold Sire’s Rights to this bastard._ He might not have Angelus’ knowledge of vampiric law, but this was something he was intimately familiar with. He’d been threatened with it as a fledgling more times than he could count.

He was as good as dust. Worse than dust. He was totally worthless.

“I suppose you’re owed that one outburst, vampire. However, I warn you – one more word…” Pret poised the razor.

Spike’s frantic nod made further threats unnecessary.

“Good boy. Just do as I say and things will go easier for you. _scrape_ Just a little bit more now _scrape_ and you’ll be clean as the day you were born.” _scrape_ A quick swipe of the washcloth to remove any remaining foam and the denuded skin practically glowed.

“A little oil to keep you smooth and we’re all finished for the moment,” Pret said, as he massaged the slick substance into every inch of flesh he could get his fingers on. He slipped his index finger underneath Spike’s balls, seeking out the small pucker between his cheeks. A slight push in an attempt to breech the tight ring of muscles proved fruitless. The vampire was far too tense.

“Oh you’re going to be a joy, you precious thing. Tight ass like yours will be highly sought after. Breaking you in is going to be a fine challenge.”

Spike hung limply in his restraints, his thighs straining from the pressure of the pillow that forced his hips forward, his chin resting on his chest in submission.

“Pretty as a picture, you are – all bare and glowing for me. Gonna lock up that treasure just for me, I think.” Grabbing Spike’s cock, Pret pumped it several times, enjoying the feel of it filling and lengthening in his hand. He deftly snapped a thick black leather cock ring around the base of the burgeoning erection and secured it in place with a small silver padlock.

Stepping away from his captive, the demon admired his handiwork. A shiver of desire coursed through his own body, which he promptly ignored. Plenty of time for indulgence in that fantasy later.

“Hang around, Spike,” he said, using the vampire’s name for the first and last time. “I have some things that cannot be put off any longer, but you’ll have my undivided attention soon enough.”

At the sound of the door closing, Spike raised his head, tears coursing silently down his face. This was his lot in life? One moment a hero – a champion charged with saving the world, the next moment an Orderless vampire – rejected by Sire and sold into either slavery or prostitution, or both from the sound of things.

He thought back to the day Giles’ had asked him if he might have a higher purpose in life. He’d snorted at the idea back then, but had come to believe just a little bit when Buffy handed him the amulet and called him a champion. Seems the Powers That Be didn’t think so highly of their champions after all, or maybe it was just him.

He startled at the sound of the door opening, unneeded breath catching in his throat as his fear threatened to overtake him. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless and it unsettled him, and being abandoned by his family, even though their relationship was volatile at best, had taken all the fight out of him.

Pret entered with only one other man as backup. “You gonna behave yourself, boy? Gonna try and make things more comfortable for you if you do.”

A brief nod, and Pret stepped forward. “My man is here just in case you decide to get rambunctious.” He unlocked the manacles from the ceiling ring, fastening them together in front of Spike, allowing his muscles to relax somewhat. “Gonna undo your feet, and if one of ‘em finds their way to touching me, I’ll get to see first-hand what the regenerative powers of a vampire are.”

Freed from the wall at last, Spike crumpled to the ground, his legs unable to hold him upright any longer.

“That’s good, baby. Just be quiet and listen to Pret and we’ll get along just fine.” He fastened a black leather collar around the vampire’s neck, two inches in width and secured it in place with two tiny silver padlocks, much like the cock ring. “Gonna trust you just a little bit, lovely. This collar’s gonna be chained to the wall, but you’ll have enough room to lie down for the evening. Trust me, you’re gonna need your rest for the next stage.”

Turning to leave he asked, “You hungry sweet thing?”

Spike nodded.

“That’s good to know. See you tomorrow, then.”

_No!_

_Oh, God._

_It couldn’t get worse. Could it?_

Fiercely hungry, muscles aching, Spike crawled over to the cot as soon as he could gather his feet beneath him.

In no time at all, he had passed out cold.


	3. The Breaking Point

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 3 – The Breaking Point**

Spike’s day began with a sharp smack on his ass.

“Up and at ‘em, pretty thing. This here’s your one and only breakfast call. Miss it, and I might just forget about you tomorrow.”

He scrambled to a sitting position, his overriding hunger motivation enough to speed his actions. He accepted the mug of warmed _human?_ blood, too hungry to question its source. Finishing quickly, he handed the empty mug back to Pret.

“That’s a good boy. As long as you’re cooperative and useful, I’ll feed you once a day. More if it’s necessary for healing, occasionally more if I feel you’ve earned it.”

Spike’s hopes sank. There was no way he’d retain his strength on the meager rations outlined for him. He’d be half starved within a week. He didn’t even want to think about injuries serious enough to warrant additional blood for healing.

“Stand up, boy – gonna check you out proper now.” The demon disconnected Spike’s collar chain from the wall. “I don’t have to make threats now, do I?”

Spike shook his head.

“Smart answer. Now, raise your hands over your head and spread your legs. Stand perfectly still no matter what, and I’ll be happy. That’s _your_ goal today, boy – making me happy.”

Pret walked around the silent vampire, running his hands over Spike’s shoulders, down his flanks and to his cheeks, prising them apart to check out the hidden pucker nestled between. Running his finger up and down the crease, Pret could feel the vampire tense and flinch.

“Gonna have to calm down some, or it’s gonna go very badly for you, boy. _My_ goal today is not to hurt you, much – but I’ve got an agenda, and your ass is on it.” He pulled the cot away from the wall. “Lie down on your stomach, hands over your head.”

Spike swallowed nervously, but obeyed without hesitation.

His manacled hands were chained to the cot’s legs, and his neck chain doubled up and attached to a ring in the floor, that prevented him from raising his head more than the slightest amount. Two pillows were placed under his hips to elevate his ass to Pret’s satisfaction. His manacled ankles were chained to the cot’s rear legs.

“Just beautiful, pretty one – all splayed out for me like a buffet lunch. Don’t wanna have to do this,” he said, slipping a ball gag into Spike’s mouth, fastening it behind his head. “Just can’t take chances with scaring the customers away until you’re all ready for business.

“Seems as if I missed a few hairs yesterday,” the demon said, as he stroked his fingers over Spike’s pucker again and again, fascinated as it twitched under his touch. “I’ll just fix that right quick.” A few strokes with the razor, and the vampire was completely smooth.

Remember what I said, boy – you’ve gotta relax. I’ll make it as easy as I can, but you’d better hope I don’t lose patience. You still with me?”

A muffled groan from behind the gag indicated that he was. Pret landed another smack to his ass, hard enough to leave a pink handprint on the right cheek.

The demon retrieved the bottle of oil he’d used last night. Settling onto a chair on the side of the cot, he slicked up several fingers and resumed stroking the vampire from tailbone to balls. He increased the pressure at each pass over the wrinkled pucker, until he slowly sank in to the first knuckle.

“There you go, baby – open up for me. It’s just a little finger and I’ve got such big plans for you.” Slipping his free hand beneath Spike, he noted the vampire’s erection was solid and leaking. “That cock ring’s gonna be there for the duration, boy. This whole exercise is not about your pleasure. It’s not even about your pain. You almost don’t enter into the equation at all.”

Spike felt his muscles give way as Pret’s finger sank in further and further with each stroke – the burn was minor, but the humiliation of being spread out like a starfish with his private bits and pieces open to this demon’s whims was choking him.

“Look at that, baby – such a greedy little hole, grabbing onto my finger and not wanting to let go. Let’s feed it some more,” he crooned, slowly adding first one then two more fingers, pumping all three in and out of Spike’s unresisting body. “One day, lovely thing,” he promised. “One day I’ll fit my whole hand up your ass, and you’ll be looking for more.”

The demon was fascinated by the sight of his fingers disappearing into Spike’s body. He removed them from Spike’s grasping hole, and quickly slicked up both hands. Using the forefinger and middle finger of each hand, he slowly sank all four digits into the vampire. 

Whimpers became moans, which became screams as the fingers proceeded to not only pound into Spike’s body, but to stretch his hole from side to side, wide enough for Pret to see the soft pink walls just past the entrance.

“It’s all right, sweet thing. You can do this. Not gonna have much choice about it, so you should be grateful to come out of it with as little damage as possible.”

The muffled screams had stopped and the tautness in the body went slack. Spike had left the building.

“Not bad for a first go round, baby. You rest now. I’ll just keep all that hard work from going to waste with this handy, dandy little plug.” Once again, Pret removed his fingers from Spike’s bottom, slicking up the plug and inserting it gently into his hole. Once it was fully seated, with only the black ring visible outside the body, he got up from the chair.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t miss me too much.” The demon pulled a blanket over Spike’s inert body, tucking it in around his shoulders, and left the room.

~*~

He regained consciousness slowly, unaware of how much time had passed. He was still restrained and gagged, unable to move. Felt like Pret had his entire foot up his ass. The burn and fullness had settled to a constant ache.

When the door opened, he realized he had been alone, which meant the bastard had shoved something into him. His ass burned, and his cock felt like it was going to explode.

“Such a pretty picture you make for me, boy. Just might take some one day. There’s a huge market for demon porn, you know. Most humans believe it’s all done with special effects and makeup. Blind fools don’t look at what’s there right under their noses.”

Pret walked over to the cot, and knelt down, able to look Spike in the face. “How you doing, pretty boy? All wide open and ready for me?” He stretched his arm around the vampire’s body, to toy with the plug. With a slight flick of his wrist, he worked the plug further into Spike’s abused channel, making him writhe and scream once more. “That’s it, sweet thing – sing for Pret. All stuffed up and aching for me.” 

The demon had already stopped looking at Spike’s tear streaked face. He walked around to the end of the cot and unzipped his pants, taking his cock out and stroking it harshly as he continued to speak. “Haven’t had such a lovely piece of ass in years, boy – gonna be nice to sink into a hole and not worry about falling out. You’ll hold me tight, won’t you? Like a firm handshake you’re gonna be.”

A quick tug ~ _far too quick for Spike’s comfort_ ~ and the plug was removed. Spike’s hole gaping and fluttering at him, caused Pret to breathe heavily. He slicked himself in preparation, then lightly began a stroking and sinking pattern with his fingers, alternating outside and inside touches.

“Here it comes, boy – get ready to meet your Master,” he crowed, and shoved himself into Spike with one vicious thrust.

_Kill me!_

_If I’ve ever done anything good or kind, just send down a bolt of lightning and burn me to dust._

_Again!_

_It hurt less than this._

Spike’s body bowed in half with the force of the demon’s thrusts. Pret could hear the metal of the links holding the vampire’s neck in place strain towards a breaking point.

“That’s it boy, your ass is the sweetest ride around, and I’m not getting off any time soon.” Pret settled himself in for a steady pace, thrusting in and out, shallow, then deep, shallow then deep, shallow then buried so far in he couldn’t move.

He noticed a sudden laxness in his victim again, but continued to thrust. “Don’t matter to me, baby. Told you it wasn’t about your pleasure or pain. Gonna get my end off eventually, and you’ll have plenty of resting time.” 

For the next hour or so, the only sounds in the room were Pret’s heavy breathing and the creaking of the cot. When he was done, he pulled himself out, wiped himself off on Spike’s blanket, and left the unconscious vampire as he was, bare assed and dripping.

Dead to the world.


	4. The Devil's Playground

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 4 – The Devil’s Playground**

~ Three Months Later ~

Spike’s days had taken on a mind-numbing sameness, which, when he thought at all, he was grateful for. Feeding, fucking, and sleeping. In that order. His life reduced to three words.

Every morning he awoke to Pret’s strident call of: “Up and at ‘em, pretty thing.” The demon would offer him a mug of warm blood, fuck him and leave. He’d finally made good on his promise of fisting, but Spike was in no condition to ‘enjoy’ it. Pret didn’t seem to get much out of the experience, either.

As time went on, the less ‘pretty’ he became. His hair grew long and shaggy and un-dyed. Rough, because his owner enjoyed grabbing handfuls of hair and yanking hard while he fucked him. 

Spike’s cheeks, ribs and hipbones had become more prominent; his skin no longer taut over toned muscles. The cock ring had long since been removed as erections had become a thing of the past. He was slowly starving.

He never saw anyone other than Pret. He never wore clothes, and he never left the dingy room he’d been dumped in since… well, he couldn’t rightly remember anymore. Since forever, it seemed. If questioned, the vampire would have been hard pressed to remember his life before Dante’s.

No longer chained to the wall or floor Spike had free reign of the room and its contents. He never left his cot except for the occasional hose down in the butcher’s kitchen.

Pret no longer gagged him during fucking, as he no longer made a sound, even when taken dry. No need to talk. His routine was inviolate and unchanging.

~*~

The inevitable happened – as it always does. Pret became bored. Fucking a vampire who no longer made even a show of fighting back or reacting to pain was a waste of his time. It wasn’t any good when they didn’t even cry.

He began to neglect his pet.

The first time Spike went hungry, the demon remembered three days later to come in with double rations and an insincere apology that garnered no reaction from the vampire other than drinking what was offered.

The second time Spike went an entire week without sustenance. The door to his room was no longer locked, but he had no thoughts about venturing outside of the four walls, even to seek out food. If he wasn’t being fed, he didn’t care. The hunger pangs were just another part of his existence.

~*~

“Up and at ‘em, sweet boy. Time for things to change around here. I know I’ve been rather pre-occupied of late, but you haven’t exactly been a sparkling conversationalist, have you?”

Looking at the vampire with dispassionate eyes, Pret had to admit his possession’s current condition was due to his own neglect. He didn’t feel badly about it, just thought there had to be something more he could get out of him besides a pile of dust.

“I know you’re in there, baby,” said the demon, looking into the dull, vacant eyes of his toy. “But if you’ve trotted off into some other place, it’s all good. The parts of you that are here are just gonna have to find some way of earning their keep.”

Pret carried Spike’s inert body – light as a feather – to a commercial sized double sink in the kitchen, and proceeded to wash the near-skeletal vampire. He remembered that body as he’d first seen it – all beautiful muscle and hard, thick cock. Now? Mostly wrinkled skin and a totally unresponsive organ. He’d even let that thick bush of pubic hair grow back. Should have noticed that; it was a sure sign of no longer wanting him. Pret never could abide body hair on those he fucked.

He tsked as he washed Spike off. “Such a sorrowful bag of bones you’ve become, boy – gonna feed you up good and proper. Make you a presentable whore for me. Just because I’m tired of you doesn’t mean you won’t be appreciated by a whole bunch of other folk.”

Going on, he warmed to his presentation, not caring if his audience heard him or understood a thing. “Imagine the pitch, baby – ‘Come one, come all, to the Devil’s Playground. Our star attraction is a once powerful souled Master Vampire. For a set fee, you’ll have an hour and your choice of one hole to play in – the game is yours. Only two rules apply – all body parts are to remain intact – no dismemberment allowed, and no dusting.’ Doesn’t that just make you tingle?”

Something must have gotten through to the nearly catatonic vampire in his arms; but a slight shiver was the only indication that he’d heard anything about his new fate.

Resting Spike’s head against the partition in the double sink, the demon washed and combed the longish sable tresses, cutting off the bleached ends. Less work to leave him with his natural hair color, and anything Pret didn’t have to bother with at this point was a good thing in his opinion.

A brisk toweling and Spike was re-settled onto his cot. After consideration, the S’lugith forced several mugs of fresh blood down his throat. He’d had to resort to using a straw in the end, stroking the vampire’s throat to encourage sucking. Looked like he no longer had the desire to feed.

“Guess I let you go too far, boy. Wasn’t my intention – but I did tell you I’m not one for long range planning. I just got so terribly bored. Tell you what. If you don’t perk up somewhat in the next week or so, I’ll dust you and end this. No need to waste time and fresh blood on a lost cause.”

~*~

Pret brought meals to Spike three times a day. After the first few days, the vampire began to exhibit signs of awareness – expecting his meals and his owner.

By the end of the week, he was able to drink directly from the mug held in his own hands.

At two weeks gone, Spike looked much as he did when he first arrived. He’d regained most of his weight and body mass, and was once again collared and chained to the wall. Pret was taking no chances on a mindless vampire chock full of human blood.

“Guess this is as good as it gets, pretty boy. I have to admit you’re still easy on the eyes, but it’s time to turn you over to your adoring fans. Got ‘em lined up around the block for you. The idea of fucking William the Bloody has spread rapid-fire through the vampire community, let me tell you. They seem to think knocking you down a peg or two makes for bragging rights.”

Spike’s blank gaze said nothing.

“It’s like talking to a wall, trying to get through to you, sweet boy – just as well your ‘dates’ have other things in mind for that pretty mouth of yours. You just take it easy now, sleep if you can. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of company to keep you occupied.”

When the door closed, Spike slowly raised his head as his mind cleared for the first time in months. He had one thought, fleeting as it was – he wanted to breathe as though it made a difference, just for a little while. The feel of oxygen running through his lungs, bringing new vitality to his system; this he craved - so he could stop breathing voluntarily and end it once and for all.

And when he closed his eyes, it all slipped away once more.

~*~

As soon as Dante’s opened for business, Pret sent the first of many demons into Spike’s room. Another vampire, for starters. Start him off nice and easy with one of his own kind.

The first client walked into the room – a short, rather stocky vampire in gameface, dressed in ratty blue jeans and a blue flannel workshirt. 

“Wake up, you fucking whore! I’m not starting my hour ‘til my balls are knockin’ on your chin.” A violent tug on his neck chain accompanied the yelling, pulling Spike out of his sleep and onto the floor. “On your knees, bitch – and make it good.”

Spike had no clue as to who was screaming at him; didn’t much matter either. Must be the ‘date’ his owner had spoken of, which meant obedience.

The vampire scrambled to his knees with no problem, since simple commands and positions had become ingrained behavior. However, he stared at the drooling cock being waved in front of him with no comprehension. Pret had never taken his mouth, and any past experience he might have had was lost to him.

“You must be the stupidest whore I’ve ever run across. Let’s make things simple for you,” the customer snarled, grabbing Spike by the chin with his free hand and tugging downwards until his mouth opened. With his other hand he guided his cock inch by inch past the vampire’s lips, until he was fairly well seated – and waited.

And waited.

Infuriated by the lack of movement, the irate vampire lashed out with a vicious punch to Spike’s temple, sending him sprawling.

Beaten for the first time since he’d been sold, full of fresh blood, something sparked deep within the vampire’s sluggish mind, rousing the demon within. Without thinking, the demon in him rose to the fore.

He attacked.

But, hampered by slowed reflexes and the neck chain, the other vampire had no difficulty in getting away.

Tucking himself back into his pants and cursing a blue streak, the customer slammed out of Spike’s room, bitterly cursing and complaining to the management that “their whore needed to be taught some fucking manners.”

Pret stormed into the little room and confronted Spike, still in gameface. “Not an auspicious beginning, sweet thing. Can’t have you attacking your clientele. Since you can’t seem to control yourself, gonna have to make you harmless.”

Wielding a pair of pliers, the demon sat down on the cot, grabbed Spike by the hair and secured his head between his knees. “Don’t you move now, boy – get this taken care of and it’s back to business. Now open that damned mouth. You make any attempt to bite me, and your tongue goes next.”

 _He knew what was coming. Angelus had done it before. And knew enough not to fight_.

Only a few pained cries issued from Spike’s mouth as his incisors were twisted and ripped out of his gums, leaving him huddled on the floor, whimpering in a pool of his own blood.

“This is your one and only warning, boy – one more fuck up and you’ll think the last few months have been a picnic with the Queen.”

Pret left, muttering to himself about “mistakes” and “more trouble than it’s worth” and went off to send in the next demon on the schedule.

The S’lugith simply smiled as the door closed behind the Fyarl. No irritated noises from the demon; that was good. He waited, then whistled softly to himself as Spike’s screaming began.

 _Better. Much, much better_.


	5. Casting Stones

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 5 – Casting Stones**

~ Nine Months Later ~

Angel’s mind was filled with happiness as he looked out his office window. Unlife could not get better than this. Life had settled down to a satisfying routine – paperwork, delegation, and the occasional meeting. Decisions he made were responsible for saving lives on a larger scale than the old one-by-one he and the AI gang had been used to.

His friends had stopped asking about Spike after the first few weeks. He’d sold them some cock and bull story about the bleached pest using his head for once and leaving Los Angeles – actually, leaving the country altogether after their last fight.

He felt totally justified in removing Spike from the picture. Nobody cared about him. Angel felt free for the first time in ages. Free of his past, free of the monster he’d created in his own image. Now, if only he knew where Drusilla was – maybe…

Nah, he wouldn’t worry about her now. Buffy was more fun to think about. Ah, she was the pure cream in all of this. She’d never found out that Spike had made his brief reappearance, so he never had to lie to her.

She had called about a month ago, telling him about her life now – how she’d decided it was time to stop actively mourning for lost friends and possibilities and move on. She’d told him she was lonely, and tired of it.

Now she’d decided to come back to him. Well, to be totally honest, to come back to Los Angeles and see where they stood. No promises, other than to try. What more could a vampire ask for? With his soul firmly anchored, they were free to pursue a full adult relationship. Just another benefit of working for Wolfram & Hart.

The ability to give Connor the life he deserved was the primary reason for listening to their offer, but the guarantee of finally anchoring his elusive soul is what put the deal over the top. A total win-win situation.

Ever since the spell had been cast, Angel felt more comfortable within his skin. The demon no longer raged to escape – it seemed far more content. As if it were more integrated with the soul – creating a single being. He felt more like Liam than he had in decades. Liam – with power.

Looking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary, Angel strode through the hallway with a song in his heart and on his lips, singing:

Oh Buffy,  
Well you came and you gave without taking,  
but I sent you away.  
Oh, Buffy,  
Well kissed me and stopped me from shaking,  
and I need you today.  
Oh, Buffy!

…discreetly to himself, since nobody appreciated his musical efforts.

Walking past the mailroom, he heard a muffled thud, followed by a startled “Shit!”

He didn’t bother checking, but continued on his merry way. Wolfram & Hart had mailroom staff for a reason, he figured. Picking up a dropped box didn’t constitute an emergency for the CEO.

~*~

Lorne felt like his head was going to explode. One moment he was sending out a package of publicity photos for some starlet or other, the next moment his mind was assaulted by blackness and betrayal. The level of ‘wrongness’ was so overpowering, the green-skinned demon couldn’t immediately discern who had revealed such malevolence.

Using the packing table for support, he levered himself up and brushed the mailroom dirt off his cream colored linen pants. Maybe he had time to find out who was throwing off such harsh vibes.

He peered around the door and saw Angel striding towards the elevator. _Ah, no. No, no, no! Someone’s trolley has jumped the tracks big time._ Making a concerted effort, Lorne launched himself down the hallway, hoping to anyone who would listen that the elevator didn’t get there before he could.

He caught Angel just in time.

“Whoa there, big fella – you’re in an awfully good mood today. Wanna tell your old pal Lorne what’s makin’ you so happy?” He nudged Angel playfully in the ribs. “It still is _Angel_ , right? No ‘got a happy issue and the Evil One is back for a visit’ scenarios?”

“Things are good, Lorne. It’s a beautiful day outside, demon problems have been minimal lately and I might be getting a handle on my love life at long last.”

Lorne’s raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

It took a moment, before Angel figured out just what he’d said to put the amused look on his friend’s face.

“Very funny, Lorne – who do you think you are, Sp…” The vampire caught himself just in time – it certainly wouldn’t be good to bring that name into play, raising questions that were better left unasked. “Never mind. For once, if everything worka out, I’ll have my job, my friends and my girl. For the first time I can see some kind of future for myself. That’s all I need to be happy. I’m a simple kind of guy.”

“I’m just playin’ with you, cupcake. It’s not like you’d still be fighting the good fight with all your chums if you were back to being devil’s food again. No worries here.”

 _~No worries my Aunt Fanny~_ There was something off, really _wrong_ with the vibrations Angel was giving off. It set Lorne’s teeth on edge – a bit like chewing on tin foil. Nothing inherently evil in and of itself, but it sent little prickles of warning running up and down his spine.

“Where are you off to, Angel-cakes? Want me to come with?” Lorne tried for casual, hoping to pick up on whatever it was setting him on edge.

“Nah – I have a meeting with the head of some demon cabal on the far side of town. The lead item on their agenda is whether or not they should be allowed to eat the homeless. I mean, really – it’s important, but you’d be bored. Thanks for offering, though.”

Lorne knew he couldn’t push the matter; he didn’t want to raise suspicion by grilling the boss. Definitely not a smart move. Just when he was about to give up for the time being, the green-skinned demon caught a break.

Angel began to hum.

This time, Lorne was prepared for the wave of animosity he’d experienced earlier passing by the mailroom. It was strong and constant, but not exactly current. Something bad had gone down, bad enough to have marked the vampire permanently. There was also the distinct crackle that signified the use of magicks directly aimed at Angel. The empath demon couldn’t feel anything sinister about the spell – something he’d have to ask the boss about another time, or dig into on his own. Probably.. yeah, probably better on his own.

The elevator finally arrived at their floor. Angel smiled, and told Lorne he’d see him later. Before the door could close, the Anagogic demon reached out to impede its progress.

He’d had a clear snippet of a vision flash through his mind – of platinum blonde hair, a swathe of black leather and a gun. Closing his eyes, he could feel pettiness, jealousy and vindictiveness surrounding the incident he was sensing. _This_ was the focal point of all the badness he sensed.

“Angel-kins, before you go off to tilt at the homeless’ windmills, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, pal – anything for you. What’s up?”

Troubled waters, Lorne, but… he stuck his oar in. “For some reason, your duster made me wonder if you’ve heard anything from your prodigal childe lately?”

“Any particular reason you’re asking me?” Angel’s expression gave nothing away; he was cool and collected when he continued. “It’s not like you ever got to know him. Why do you care?”

“No real reason, my little peach-pie. It’s just something about the black leather that sparked a memory. I guess I’m just curious about where he might be, and whether he’s found some happiness after all he’s been through.”

Angel frowned. “You know, I truthfully haven’t given him more than a moment’s thought since he left the building. Knowing him, he’s off being a pain in the ass somewhere. I wouldn’t worry – Spike always manages to look out for himself.”

Lorne let the elevator door close after bidding the vampire adieu, with the uneasy suspicion that Angel was hiding something big and bad.

“Well, there’s only one thing I can do while the cat’s away,” he said aloud. “Snoop through the boss’ office and see if anything reeks of discord.” 

There was nobody in the vicinity of Angel’s office, and Lorne’s relief was palpable. He harbored no delusions about video security – he’d just have to bribe the guard with tickets to his favorite show. No skin off his green nose. Working with evil had its plus side.

~ _Now, if I were evidence, where would I hide?_ ~

He sat at Angel’s desk, opening drawer after drawer, finding nothing even remotely personal. Office supplies, a tranquilizer dart gun – always paid to play things safe. None of the regular flotsam that most people accumulated by existing.

The bottom drawer was locked. With a quick poke of his tie pin, the demon managed to bypass the catch. “Let’s see what you’ve been hidin’ on us, Angel-cakes.” There’s a picture of Cordelia – good to see she’d not been forgotten. A picture of a small baby which was puzzling, but nothing to be concerned about.

But then – “Hello, what’s this?” Underneath a manila folder, there was a small plastic bag. Just as he was about to open it to examine the contents, Gunn walked into the office.

“Yo, Jolly Green, what’re you doing in the boss man’s office?”

Refusing to be rattled or distracted from his task, and knowing he’d need help from someone, Lorne decided to take the bull by the horns.

“Have you noticed anything unusual about our head honcho lately? Is he acting strange, or setting off any mental alarms with you?”

“Not particularly, no. In fact, I’ve never seen him so at ease with himself and other’s. He’s smiling more, and he’s not broo… wait, is that what you’re talkin’ about? Damn, man – that is out of character for him. What’s he got to be so happy about?”

“That’s what I’ve been wracking the old noodle about, my little cup of java. He’s still Angel – no worries there, but he’s different. And it’s giving me all kinds of ookie feelings. I’ve felt some bad things coming off that boy – heard him singing in the halls earlier.”

“God, no – don’t tell me he’s still doin’ the Manilow bit? That would make anyone feel ‘ookie’ as you put it.”

“Oh yeah, and I got a headache from it that just won’t…” Lorne freezes, a wave of overwhelming pain ripped through him. He’d been toying with the bag as he spoke with Gunn – and the small silver ring inside had slid into his palm, unnoticed. Well, he’s noticing now… it seared his hand like it was snatched out of the flames. Again, an image of black leather and platinum hair. This was too much to be a coincidence.

“You alright, man? You look a bit… well, greener than usual.”

“Do you remember seeing this ring before? Is it familiar to you?”

Gunn peered at it. “It’s been awhile, but I think I remember seein’ it on Blondie, when he first showed up here. Where the hell is he? I thought for sure he’d be here tormenting the boss man forever. He took such joy in it.”

“That’s just it. I asked Angel if he’d heard from him, and he claims he hasn’t given him two thoughts since he walked out almost a year ago. But everything I’m reading from him and this ring… says our blonde piece of fluff has met with serious harm.”

“So, what’s the what with that piece of paper still in the bag?”

“Seems to be a receipt of some kind – it’s dated… Oh great green mother earth… it’s dated the last day Spike was in the office. The logo says Dante’s – ‘Property Delivered’ received by Pret, cost – one dollar.”

“You ever hear of a place called Dante’s with all your connections? Got a feelin’ it’s not a flower shop we’re talkin’ of.”

“Tell you what, pumpkin – why don’t I go check with entertainment, see if they’ve heard of this place, maybe give us a clue as to what we’re facing?”

“Sounds good, I’ll head down to records, to see if there’s somethin’ the boss wanted hidden that corresponds with this date.”

“Let’s get this show on the road, then. How about we meet at my place in a couple of hours? After work, say six o’clock?”

“Works for me, man. See you there. Gotta tell you, I’m not feelin’ real good about this.”

“Me, either, buckaroo. Me, either.”


	6. A Friend in Need

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 6 – A Friend In Need**

Lorne was pacing wildly by the time Gunn’s car pulled into the driveway. The things he’d found out about Dante’s made his skin crawl, and he all but ripped open the door when the bell sounded.

“Oh man, this is just all kinds of bad. What I found in records is enough to curl _my_ hair.” Gunn blurted before he’d even gotten a foot inside. He waved a file folder around in the air.

Lorne crossed his arms. “Do tell, sugar plum. I’ve got the oddest feeling that what you tell me dovetails with what I found out, and it won’t make either of us happy. So, spill.”

“How much do you know about vampire hierarchy? About their familial structure and pecking orders and laws and by-laws?” Gunn ran his hand over his head, as if trying to hold onto his thoughts.

“Well, obviously your newly improved noggin contains more than musicals and Machiavelli. Give me the point you’re obviously dying to make.”

“You know Angel’s from a long line of vampires, right?. One going back to the founder of the Order, Aurelius himself. The Master, Heinrich Nest, was also of this line, ancient enough to no longer have his human mask. He became Darla’s Sire sometime around 1609, and she in turn sired Angelus some time around 1760. Angelus sired Penn before the turn of the century and then Drusilla in 1860. Most records show that Spike, or rather, William the Bloody, was sired by Drusilla the fucking loon back in 1880.”

He paused, still not sure how to handle what he’d found out. “Problem is, while Drusilla was responsible for mostly killing William, it was Angelus who finished draining him. Brought him over. According to vampiric law and custom, Angelus is Spike’s Sire.”

“So, what’s in a name, Charles? Either way, he’s still a vampire.” Lorne braced for what was to come. Couldn’t be good.

“When a vamp is sired, he or she becomes a Childe. The Sire is everything – mother, father, and God. They are responsible for laying down the law, and disseminating the lore and structure of vampiric society. They are also responsible for keeping the fledgling safe and in check and are held accountable for every right or wrong perpetrated by said fledgling.”

Lorne shook his head and frowned. “Sounds all nice and neat, but what does it have to do with Spike and these feelings I’ve been getting?”

“You ever heard of Sire’s Rights? They’re usually never invoked – their use is considered a failure on the part of a Sire to control their childer. Basically it’s an excommunication from the Order and from their immediate family. Usually it’s given to the childe themselves… leaving them adrift amongst demon society. Sometimes, it’s transferred to another Order, one that’s willing to take the childe in and be responsible for its actions.”

“Charlie boy, why do I feel you’re holding the big bad news for last? If you’re going to tell me what I think you are – well, I have corroborating evidence and I just might be sick to my stomach.”

With a deep breath, Gunn opened the folder and withdrew a piece of paper, handing it to Lorne. “Sometimes, Sire’s Rights are sold to an individual, not necessarily a vampire, basically leaving the childe in question an indentured slave at the beck and call of the purchaser. And they have the right to dust the vamp when and how they want, if they want.”

“Shit!” exclaimed Lorne. “Angel sold Spike out to this Pret creature at Dante’s.”

Gunn blinked. “Whoa, dude. Coming from you that’s scary. You _never_ curse. You might as well spill your bad news. I think we’ve tossed the possibility of good news out the window with the bathwater hours ago.”

“I think our chances of finding Spike alive – unlive – whatever, just went down to zip. Lorne shook his head. “I know Dante’s. It’s a demon bar. Exclusively. No humans. A demon bar with a penchant for slaughter exhibitions and prostitution.”

“Oh God. You tellin’ me that the boss man sold his own kin to be killed or fucked by other demons?” Gunn went an ashy tone. “Fuck that! Ain’t slavery supposed to have been abolished in this country? And a year after the fact, I’m almost hoping we find out the dude’s dusted, long gone.”

Lorne hugged himself. “I don’t want to believe it. It’s not possible that Angel could do such a serious thing and lie about it – act as if Spike’s out there, having the time of his unlife and causing trouble for anyone he meets. This is part of the problem, Charles. For a vampire with a soul, he just doesn’t act like it. He’s been so damned happy.”

Gunn snorted. “We can stand here for the rest of the day and argue over the soul/no soul issue, but if we have an address, I think it’s time to high-tail it over to Dante’s and see if we can find out anything. It’s not as if I even knew the vamp… just met him the first day he’d popped into the office, and it’s not that I love puttin’ my ass on the line for another vampire – but nobody sells out family or _anyone_ for… that!”

The look of revulsion on Gunn’s face spurred Lorne into action. Gunn was right. This had to end. Now.

“Well, let’s get this party started then, my little strudel. One way or the other, it’s time someone knew of his fate. I’ve got a feeling there’s a whole big story behind all that blonde hair and leather, and Angel-kins went through all kinds of trouble to make sure we never found out.”

~*~

The atmosphere inside the car was tense. Both passengers were lost in their own thoughts for most of the drive to the demon bar, until Lorne broke the silence with:

“No matter what you see and hear, I need you to stay calm. They’ll let you into the bar on my behalf, but Dante’s doesn’t cotton to humans, at least not as patrons. Are you going to have any problems with this?”

“Man, I can be cool. I know when to just chill and sit back. Been following Angel’s lead for so long…” Gunn shook his head. “Damn. This puts a whole new light on things. How am I going to look him in the face again? Knowin’ what we know? No matter what we find out about Blondie, it doesn’t negate the fact that Angel fuckin’ sold his own _son_ to the slaughter.”

His anger grew. “This flies in the face of everything I knew about the vamp. I let my guard down for him! I hated vampires – still do, I suppose. It took forever to trust that Angel took care of his own. That was a constant. He’s still freakin’ out over Buffy after all these years, and Cordy’s an issue for him, too. He doesn’t let go of those he cares about – it’s why I stayed with him. Family, honor and the mission – all things he embodied. All things I took to heart.

“What’s gonna happen if one of us pisses him off? Is he gonna turn around and sell us off, too? Or betray us if the price is right? Damned vampires – and yet, here I am, riding off to the possible rescue of another one.”

“You don’t have to do this, sweet-cheeks. I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind. Do you want me to take you back home? This little mystery’s been around for almost a year, now. A few more minutes more or less won’t make a difference.”

“Nah, what Angel did was wrong. It doesn’t matter if he did it to another vamp. He did it to his own family, and I won’t stand for that. If Blondie’s alright and he pisses me off enough, I’ll dust him myself, but a dude’s got a right to go down fightin.’ Also, if he’s got a story to tell, I wanna hear it – find out what he did to warrant that kind of reaction from his own Sire.”

~*~

“Remember, Strudel… calm is Uncle Lorne’s word of the day, capische?”

“We’re cool. See? Lips sealed.”

They walked into the club, calmly looking around. It was fairly empty, as most of the patrons were nocturnal.

Gunn nudged Lorne with his elbow in the direction of the bar. Sure enough – hanging next to a framed document similar to the one he’d gotten from Records, was Spike’s duster.

“I’m gonna be sick, Lorne – they’ve got his duster pegged like a fuckin’ animal skin on the wall.”

“Remember what I said, cookie… calm is the word for the day. Let me handle this.”

The green-skinned demon walked to the bar, asking for the manager. Pret ambled over, all solicitous of his patron.

“What can I do for you, handsome? Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“Oh, word of mouth brought you to my attention – needed a place to relax after work. I hear you tend to have some… ‘distractions’ available.”

“Ah yes. Always something pretty to take the edge off after a hard day’s work. Looking for anything in particular? Species, gender?”

~ _Calm, bubbelah – heed your own advice._ ~ “I notice you’ve got some lovely leather hanging on your wall. Do you have a story to go with it?”

“Good taste you got there. It’s a beauty, isn’t it? Got it off of one of my little ‘distractions.’ Pretty thing he is, but he’s occupied at the moment. Unless you care to wait… just need a few moments for a hose-down and he’ll be fresh as a daisy.”

Stifling the urge to vomit, Lorne turned to see his partner clenching and unclenching his fists. He turned his attention back to Pret.

“Can you do me a favor? I’ve got a bit of a voyeuristic streak in me… think I can peek in on the little crumpet while he’s busy – see what I’ve got in store for me?”

The S’lugith paused for the briefest moment, during which time Lorne had slipped a few bills out of his wallet and onto the bar. Gathering up the money, he pointed in the direction of the ‘game room.’

“Just a peek in the window, mind – some folks don’t rightly take to getting watched while they play.”

Less than five minutes later, an irate Lorne barreled back to the bar, grabbed Pret by the shirt and decked him with a mean right cross.

Gunn jumped up, just in time to avoid flying debris. Beer dregs spattered his suit from head to toe. “Whoa, dude! What the hell happened to ‘Uncle Lorne’s word of the day?’ Wait, tell me he’s not…”

Dragging Gunn to see for himself was all it took. They stormed into the little room, pulled the ‘client’ away from Spike and threw him bare-assed naked out into the club. Gunn locked the door, and they turned to face the sable haired vampire, suspended from the ceiling in a harness.

He wasn’t conscious – a small blessing for them all. The vampire’s limbs had been bound close to his body. Legs folded back, leather thongs holding calves to thighs, arms crossed and bound at the wrists behind his back. Blood dripped from his mouth and down his thighs.

Lorne barely managed to turn his head before he lost his last meal. Gunn pulled out the pocket knife he always kept handy, and once his very green skinned partner was able to support Spike, cut the unconscious vampire’s bindings and harness straps.

They wrapped his battered form in a blanket from the cot and made their way to the front of the club, the looks in their faces daring anyone to stop them. Handing Spike off to Gunn, Lorne indicated he would be out shortly.

Once they were safely out the door, the empath turned to confront Pret, who was just now regaining consciousness, himself.

“You fucking bastard. How could you do this to another demon? What the hell had he ever done to you?”

“It was a legit deal,” Pret protested. “I’ve got the paperwork right here. Sale all legal and above board. I want him back. He’s mine to do with as I please. Sire’s Rights say it’s so.”

“Did you ever stop and think that there was something a little funny about a deal that important – the assignation of one’s own childe to a complete stranger – for the sum of a dollar? Let me tell you something, buddy – I work for Wolfram & Hart, as well as the vampire who turned his own get over to you. This was wrong with a capital wrong. Shady deal, buckaroo. If news of his liberation reaches Angel’s ears, I can guarantee you that you won’t have a club standing the next day. Wooden structures such as this go up in flames so easily. Get my meaning?”

Pret nodded, realizing he’d lost this particular battle. He might have been a big man when his victim was all helpless before him, but put Pret up against someone large and angry and he folded like a house of cards.

Lorne grabbed the duster and framed document from the wall, and left the club, head held high. He joined Gunn, who had already settled Spike in the back seat. "Let's get out of here," he growled, his voice harsh but his hands, cradling the vampire's head, gentle.


	7. I Am My Brother's Keeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would suggest not eating before reading this chapter.

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 7 – I Am My Brother’s Keeper**

The trip back to Lorne’s was made in utter silence. They’d found Spike, which was totally unexpected. In principal, they had known it was a rescue mission, but were expecting to come away with the knowledge that he’d been dust for months. Now that they had the actual vampire in question seat belted in the back of the car, his head resting in Lorne’s lap, the question became: “What next?”

Gunn gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Are you sure you want to do this, man? Take him home with you?”

 _Of course he wasn’t sure. What did he know about the care and feeding of vampires?_ “What would you have me do, friend? There’s only one person who could properly take care of him, and he’s the very person we have to keep him away from.”

“You’ve got one seriously messed up bloodsucker on your hands." Gunn shook his head. “All right, I’ll amend that to _we’ve_ got one seriously messed up bloodsucker on our hands. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?”

Lorne laid his hand on his confidant’s shoulder. “Thanks, cookie. This is going to be hard enough with both of us involved. First things first, we need to get this cutie pie all tucked up in bed and out of sight. Do you think you can make a blood run?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Gunn rubbed his chin in thought. “Have to make sure to hit a blood bank that doesn’t deliver to Wolfram & Hart. Wouldn’t be the smartest move to use the office account to have blood delivered elsewhere. Avoiding suspicion is of paramount importance.”

The green-skinned demon brushed his hand gently over Spike’s pale forehead, smoothing tendrils of hair away from his face.

“You poor bastard,” he murmured. “No matter what you might have done to set off the boss…” Lorne sighed. There were no words to justify what Angel had done.

~*~

Gunn brought the car to a full stop in the driveway. “I’m gonna have to get this car fumigated, man – our boy is a bit ripe for socializing right now.”

Gathering Spike up in his arms, Lorne exited the car. “Yeah, it’s become increasingly obvious that I need to get him washed up. It’s as good a time as any to check out his injuries.”

He shifted the unconscious vampire in his arms, making sure he had a solid grip. “I’ve gotta go, doll – the lure of the bath awaits. See you soon with that blood?”

Gunn offered a short salute. “You got it – a cooler full of yummy human goodness for the vampire of the day.” 

As the car pulled down the driveway, Lorne turned, opened his door and carried Spike up to the guestroom. Gently placing him on the bed, he went into the adjoining bathroom and filled the tub with hot water, knowing it would cool a bit before Spike was ready.

Not knowing if the vampire would hear or take comfort in anything he said, Lorne spoke in a soft, soothing voice. It eased his own nerves, anyway.

“Looks like personal hygiene wasn’t their utmost priority, sport – I’ve got a nice bathtub full of warm water for you. Hopefully getting rid of the crud will help you rest easier.

From the smells and the red stains seeping through they blanket they'd wrapped Spike in, Lorne could tell this wasn't going to be easy. His poor stomach, what it had already been through during one night already... still, couldn't be a patch on what the vampire had to have suffered. Was still suffering, if his faint twitches and soft moans even while unconscious were anything to go by.

_You can do this, Lorney-boy. Just open the blanket._

Gently as he could, he unwrapped the edges of the rough material and peeled them away from Spike's naked frame. The smell of blood and come, both old and new, hit him afresh. He fought not to stumble back, but he desperately wished he had some menthol to smear under his nose. Spike was filthy.

Not only dirty, for all of Pret's talk about a hose-down, but badly hurt, too. Lorne's green fingers probed gently at him, starting from the neck and working his way down. Some things squeaked - fractured bones? – and some had a too-soft feel to them, like rotten fruit. 

He hesitated before unwrapping the part of the blanket that covered Spike's crotch. Knowing Pret, it would be worst of all here. 

With a deep breath, he uncovered the damage.

His stomach flipped over at the first incredulous look, and he fought not to be sick for the second time that day. Damage? More like near-destruction. All of it Pret's work, or at his permission. A human couldn't survive something like that and stay a man.

A leather ring, at least two sizes two small, trapped Spike's engorged cock so tightly that it bit into the skin. Dick and balls both were nearly black with pooled blood, skin nearly splitting underneath a layer of demon saliva and who knew what else. The edges of an ugly, homemade piercing were ragged around the end of a rough-and-ready Prince Albert that looked no better than a bent nail shoved through the tip of his cock. A chain – looked like bicycle chain, and way too short – leading from the PA to a heavy looking ring stabbed through his navel and lower belly kept the painful organ bent up at a sharp angle. Both stank of raw flesh, constantly pulled at and kept open, never left to heal.

"Oh, gods," Lorne murmured, terrified to touch the mess. "That's got to come off you right now."

Only... what would happen when it did? Would he come so hard he woke screaming with the pain of it? Would the wounds flutter and pulse open, without giving him any relief at all? Maybe he should wait for Gunn.

No – no. Gunn didn't need to see this. Bad enough he had to himself. Let Spike keep some of his pride, anyhow.

There was a pair of metal shears and some good strong scissors in a drawer nearby, he knew. He'd just have to pray that he could snip those bonds loose and give Spike relief from what had to be unbearable pain without him waking up to experience it.

Had to do it. He couldn't take those near-silent moans and grimaces anymore.

His shaking hands reached for the instruments. "Okay, bubbeleh," he whispered. "Let's get you free."

At the first touch of Lorne’s hand on the vampire’s damaged genitalia, Spike arched his back completely off the bed – body taut in its agony, mouth wide open in a silent scream. Even there, in the soft pink tissues of his mouth, the damage was terrible.

“So sorry, peach-pie.” He had to restrain his own sobs. Between being compassionate and empathic, he was overwhelmed by the damage perpetrated on Spike’s person. “I know it’s beyond painful for you, but it can’t be helped. This stuff has _got_ to come off before you lose what the good lord blessed you with.”

Steeling himself to the task at hand, the green-skin demon shakily proceeded to cut through the cock ring – afraid to peel it off without taking skin with it. The penis twitched once or twice, and an odd mixture of blood and come oozed out of the slit, around the piercing, as if it had been contained so long, that the mixture had coagulated.

 _Shit_ Not able to make it to his feet, Lorne lost the battle with his stomach for the second time, turning his rug into another casualty.

Empty as he was ever going to be, he returned to the piercings, cutting through them as quickly and as carefully as he could, removing the jagged pieces of metal. More of that coagulated mess oozed sluggishly from the open wounds.

He wished Gunn would get back with the blood. Spike needed it, and fast.

Once again, he gathered the writhing vampire in his arms, and settled him gently into the warmth of the bath, on a folded towel he’d placed to cushion his broken body, and to keep him from slipping under the water.

It must have been soothing, as Spike stopped thrashing about and relaxed.

Lorne knelt by the tub, washcloth and antiseptic bath gel in hand. He made a perfunctory job of cleansing Spike’s delicate skin, not wanting to open any half healed wounds, or aggravate the fresh ones. He placed one arm under the vampire’s neck, and with his free hand, pulled the towel down to the other end of the tub, so he could wash his hair.

“Definitely more than a one bath job, my friend, but this will have to do for now.”

In a reverse of his previous actions, Spike was returned to a semi reclining position in the tub. Lorne turned to face the prospect of removing the cock ring, loathe to cause any more pain, when the offending piece of leather floated to the surface of the bathwater.

“One less agony for you, at least,” he murmured.

He lifted the now much fresher body out of the tub, and onto the soft towels he’d placed on the floor in advance. To his relief ~ _and the vampire’s_ ~ Spike’s penis was only semi-erect, and much less angry looking. Bruised and abraded, yes, but no longer in danger of the skin splitting.

“Almost done, muffin. I promise rest is just moments away.” He gently towel dried the vampire’s body and hair, and brought him back to bed.

 _Damn, spoke too soon._ Returning to the bed with a magenta silk bathrobe, Lorne noticed a small puddle of blood pooling between Spike’s legs. Cursing himself for being three times a fool, he wondered how he could possibly have forgotten to check for damage… there.

“It just doesn’t end for you, does it, Spike?” He sighed, and gently eased the vampire over on his side. Gingerly spreading his cheeks apart, he saw that the swollen opening trickled a slow but steady ooze of dark, thickened blood.

With a delicate touch Lorne probed around the abused pucker, searching for what, he wasn’t exactly sure. Tender touches, not meant to intrude ensured that there was nothing foreign lodged inside causing the bleeding. Wrapping the silk robe around Spike’s body, all he could do was hope time and fresh blood would be sufficient to heal the wounded creature in his arms.

Holding Spike close to his chest, Lorne managed to ease a fresh towel under the vampire’s body to absorb the newly spilled blood. He wrapped both arms around the spare back, softly rocking and crooning nonsense words of reassurance and safety.

And the unexpected happened, just as Lorne heard Gunn pull up. Spike’s lips moved against the crook of his neck – no sound, just soft movement, and Lorne was grateful that the blood has arrived.

~*~

Warmth. It had been so long he almost didn’t recognize the sensation for what it was.

_Kind words._

_Strong arms._

_He knew what was coming._

_Pain._

_Kind words and strong arms meant agonizing pain._

He curled back in on himself and waited for it.


	8. Fool's Gold

**Hell Is In the Details – Fool’s Gold – An Interlude**

It was a long plane ride. Nine hours from London to Los Angeles, if you didn’t count hang time at the airport and the inevitable delays. Lots of time for self-reflection.

Buffy settled into her seat and closed her eyes. She was on her way to her first love. The man ~ _no, vampire_ ~ she’d willingly have died for as a teenager. The vampire she’d sent to hell when things got twisted. The vampire who’d left her twisting in the wind for her own good.

And all because the vampire she really wanted was dust at the bottom of a closed Hellmouth.

She’d tried the normal life. Really, she had. Cut way back on the slaying with the help of all those newbies out there. Actually dated – frequently. Lots of men.

Never more than once or twice each. They left her unfulfilled and bored. And can we say absolutely no staying power? Not to mention the restraint necessary to keep from… _bruising the boys_.

Which brought her back to him, once again. No matter what she did, _who_ she did or where she went, that infuriating little half smirk/half heart rending smile followed her. The peace she’d found in his arms those last few days… it eluded her at every twist and turn of her life.

A year had passed since life as she knew it ended, and it was time to move on. Angel was a known quantity – mostly. She had no other choice. The normal life with the normal lover she thought she craved couldn’t hold up to her abnormal reality. She wasn’t _The_ Chosen One anymore, but still – it had left its taint.

She sighed, turning her face to the tiny window. Nothing to see but clouds, blocking everything from her vision. Best thing she could do was close her eyes, sleep and wake up to the possibility of a new life with Angel.

~*~

The wait at LAX was interminable. Teeming with people, it set Angel’s vampire senses on edge; the thud-thudding of thousands of heartbeats, the whooshing of blood through veins – and the smells. Never before had he cursed his enhanced senses as he was at that very moment.

Buffy was finally going to be his, just as she should be. As she always should have been. No more human weaklings, vying for her attention. No more snarky pretenders to the good fight taking up space in her heart. No more worries about loosing Angelus on the world.

The stench from the food courts was making him ill. Why the hell couldn’t her plane come in at some other terminal? Oh, how he longed for the days when he could let loose the demon and tear through the annoyances in his way.

Instead, he walked to the far end of the terminal, putting as much space between him and the masses as he could. He knew he was making himself crazy. All he needed to feel right again was to see her face, looking at him, full of expectations for their life together.

Angel admitted to himself that their future happiness wasn’t exactly set in stone. Buffy was no longer a naïve teenager, easily led and swayed by the older and wiser man in her life. Not that she’d ever been exactly that.

There were certainly issues to be discussed. Wolfram & Hart, for one. He knew she wasn’t happy about his easy trust in his new mission as CEO. For another, she would need to find something to occupy herself – maybe she could go back to school. He’d even find a place for her at W&H, if she’d let him.

The possibilities were endless, and the possible rewards more boundless still. To not be alone. It had been so long since he’d been part of a couple, or a family – one he wanted, anyway. Something that annoying shit Spike had gotten right after all – he _could_ pick and choose his family.

He looked up at the monitors. The flight was about to land.

~*~

Gods, she was so tired of planes and airports. She remembered the days when all she wanted was a trip out of Sunnydale. Never thought she’d live long enough to go on vacation, or visit Europe. Now, she’s seen more of the world than she cares to remember. And always alone. So damned alone.

The landing was smooth enough to be boring. As she gathered up her handbags, preparing to deplane – she spared a final thought for her fallen… companion? Those last weeks would never be forgotten, and neither would his unflinching support of her:

_Time to move on, Spike. I know you’d tell me my decision was ‘the dog’s bollocks’ but I’m not strong enough to do this on my own anymore. I wish you were here. At least…”_

She sighed, and left the plane, and began her search for Angel.

~*~

Angel stared at the doors, waiting for the passengers to deplane. He smelled her before he saw her; it was a scent he’d never been able to forget. Slowly, he walked to the velvet ropes that separated the disembarking passengers from the waiting throng.

Their eyes caught, and Buffy’s face softened with recognition.

She dropped her bags and allowed herself to be caught up in the bear hug that was Angel. Much like the last time they’d kissed at the vineyard, it was all consuming – blocking out the sounds and sights around them.

But when she had to break the kiss to catch her breath she realized one very important fact.

The road she was prepared to travel with _this_ vampire was gonna need a whole lot of paving.


	9. Perchance to Dream

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 8 - Perchance to Dream**

_Not bound._

_Comfort?_

_So afraid to hope._

_Best to just not be…there._

~*~

Gunn walked into the room, carrying a tray with several mugs of warmed blood, a spoon and a straw. “Didn’t know what kind of shape he’d be in, so thought I’d play boy scout and be prepared. How’s our boy doin’?”

Lorne eased the vampire back onto the bed. “There are just no words. If I were human? My skin tone would still be as gorgeously green as it is right now. What they did to him… they should be ripped apart.”

“I’m all for a little ass-kickin’. But we’d better try getting’ some blood into him before it coagulates. And did I ever tell you how much I wish I didn’t know about heating blood to 98.6?” Gunn shuddered, handing over the first mug and the spoon.

Lorne tucked a towel around Spike’s neck and shoulders, pretty sure that feeding was going to be anything but simple. With his arm under the vampire’s neck for support, the green-skinned demon lifted a blood laden spoon to Spike’s pale lips.

Which remained closed.

A second and third try fared no better.

“Maybe you just need to get him started, dude. How about a nice fingerful of blood – see if he rouses?” 

Lorne gave him his best ‘you’re insane?’ look. “Sure, I’ll stick my blood soaked digit into the mouth of a starving vamp. If he comes to he’ll make me a Lorne-ka-bob.”

But in the end, he resorted to that very tactic. Coating his finger with the rapidly cooling blood, Lorne ran it gently over Spike’s lips, trying to coax his mouth open. He kept his touch gentle, remembering the damage he’d seen earlier. For his efforts, he received a small twitch, barely registering against his slick finger.

Trying once more with a fresh fingerful of blood, the demon increased the pressure against Spike’s lips, gaining entry as his mouth opened, lips forming a small oval.

“You wanna tell me again why you think this is such a good idea? I feel like I’m putting my hand into the lion’s mouth, and saying ‘come and get it, kitty – finger food, free of charge.’”

Gunn shook his head. “Man, he’s gotta feed. Try again, maybe rubbing some on his gums.”

“If I lose any fingers, bucko – you’re turning the pages in my Sunday paper. Once more into the fray, and then we can probably kiss these mugs goodbye.” Lorne made a face. “This stuff goes lumpy so fast”

His one last attempt at finger feeding provoked a violent reaction. Rubbing his blood soaked finger against the vampire’s gums and tongue stimulated a swallowing reflex. Spike reared up, knocking Lorne halfway to the floor, and loosed an ungodly sound.

“What the fuck is that noise?” Gunn looked around for the source of the terrible creaking sound that now filled the room.

A look of horror crossed Lorne’s face, as he realized that sound was coming from Spike. _Shit, he must have hit another injured spot._ Sorry, doll-face. Let me look and see what’s causing you such trauma.”

Motioning Gunn to help immobilize the vampire’s thrashing head, Lorne gently re-opened Spike’s mouth for a closer look. As he’d noted before, there were raw scrapes on the insides of his cheeks, upper palate and tongue, as far as he could see. But what caught his eye this time were the two spaces where Spike’s incisors should have been.

Lorne’s breath caught. “Gods and monsters – no wonder he’s hurting. Look at this!” Pointing out the empty spaces, he noticed the beginnings of sharp points making their way past the surface of the gumline.

“You tellin’ me all this caterwauling’s due to teething pains?”

“We’re talking oral fixations to the nth degree here – can you imagine how sensitive the fangs must be to a vamp? No wonder he’s kicking up such a ruckus. Be a love and get me an icepack from the freezer? One of those soft gel thingies. In the meantime, I’m gonna try and bypass those teeth and get the blood straight into his throat.”

Gunn grimaced, exiting the room quickly. It had to be done, yeah – but didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Spike’s agonized cries settled into small whimpers. He was unable or unwilling to close his mouth, due to either pain or ~ _shudders_ ~ conditioning. Taking advantage of the situation, Lorne tipped a spoonful of blood towards the back of his tongue, gently stroking the vampire’s throat to encourage swallowing.

~*~

_Blood. Human blood?_

_He’d been reduced to pig and chicken for so long, it was ambrosial._

_But blood meant healing, which led to more pain._

_If only he could refuse._

_But he couldn’t._

_And so he swallowed._

~*~

“Come on, Spike,” Lorne encouraged. “There’s a clever vampire. The more blood we get into your system, the sooner you’ll be back with us. I’m sure you have a lovely tale to tell, crumpet. Gunn and I want to hear everything. Find out just how such a thing happened.” He managed to trickle four or five more spoonfuls down the vampire’s throat before the blood was too congealed to slide off the spoon.

Gunn reappeared with the ice pack, and Lorne gestured for silence. He’d eased Spike back onto the bed, and noticed the lack of tension in his torso and face.

“Some progress, it seems, cookie,” he quietly said. “What do you see when you look at him?”

Looking closely, Gunn focused in on the vampire’s chest. “Damn, is he actually breathing? I don’t remember Angel ever…”

 _Shit, shit, shit!_ At the mention of the elder vampire’s name, Lorne noticed the tension return tenfold to Spike’s body. _Ah gods, no – don’t let him…”_ and then… 

Spike vamped out, roaring first in anger, then agonizing pain as the newly erupted teeth lengthened into fangs, tearing at the tender gums.

With no thoughts to his own safety, Gunn leapt onto the bed, grabbing the gamefaced vampire by the shoulders. “Shit, Lorne… this isn’t what I signed on for – I’m not real happy to have this guy’s bloody fangs two inches from my neck. What the hell can we do?”

Awkwardly patting Spike’s back Gunn tried to be reassuring. “It’s okay, man. You’re safe here. I promise, nothin’s gonna hurt you again – got your back, for sure.”

Lorne joined them on the bed, trying to soothe the agitated vampire with a gentle massage of his temples. “Come on, mi amigo. I know you’re scared and you have every right to be. Gunn and I are here to help. We’ll hold you and talk to you and prove that you can trust us. Just open your eyes, sugar – and see for yourself.”

~*~

_Fangs must mean true face – but true face meant pain and no fangs._

_And still, soothing words and gentle touches._

_Two different? He’s done two before._

_Never pleasant._

_Safe? How he wishes._

_Dare he hope? Can he trust?_

_He relaxes slightly, true face receding – fangs retracting._

_To sleep, perchance to dream…_

~*~

They heard it first – the subtle shifting of bone that signified the return of Spike’s human mask – and felt the vampire’s body relax. When Gunn shifted him in his arms, it was obvious that Spike had fallen asleep once more.

“I swear, man – never gonna utter the boss’ name in his presence again.” Gunn left the bed, pacing back and forth as his nerves began to unwind, shaking the tension out of his limbs. “Only good thing is that a reaction like that means he’s still in there. He can hear and understand us, but he’s probably afraid to act. Reminds me of a puppy who’s been kicked one too many times – wary as hell.”

Before the green-skinned demon could answer, Gunn’s cell phone began to vibrate. Checking out the LED display, he gulped – Wolfram & Hart.

“Charles Gunn here. How can… oh, Harmony. What can I do for you?”

Lorne’s red eyes narrowed with dislike and the slightest bit of fear, worried that they were being called to task for not being at work.

The vampiress heaved a put upon sigh. “Bossy’s called a party for this evening, and attendance is mandatory. Little Miss Slayer freak is here, and I think he’s got an announcement to make. I know he wants to introduce her to everyone, and I don’t know why I have to be the one to do this but everyone’s too busy, and you and Lorne haven’t been here today and do you know where he is?”

Gunn laughed. “Slow down there, girl. It never hurts to pause between sentences. We had an incident last night. Seems as if one of Lorne’s boyfriends is sick, and he asked for my help in getting him to the doctor.” A quick glance towards the bed confirmed that Lorne was happy with the excuse.

“Yeah, he’s gonna have to keep a bedside vigil for a few weeks. I’m sure he’ll call in, or show up tomorrow to straighten things out all proper.”

“Angel’s going to be all pissy about it when his Entertainment guy doesn’t show up,” Harmony warned, “but I’ll do what I can. I’ll see you tonight at eight, sharp – in the second floor conference room.”

Gunn slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that, man. I couldn’t think of anything else, and you’ve got your hands full of vampire. He doin’ any better?”

“Seems to be relaxing into a real sleep, poor thing. He’s not as twitchy, and he’s not moaning as much.” He snuck a quick peek under the robe. “That er… uh… it’s not quite so… angry as it was before. I doubt it was the teensy bit of blood he took – maybe it’s just the rest.”

Gunn shivered. “Don’t tell me. Never tell me. If I get plastered and ask – even if I won’t remember in the morning… I just don’t want to know. Oh, Harmony said that tonight’s party is to introduce everyone to Buffy on a personal level – some sort of announcement in the works. I’ll just make your apologies. I really don’t want to be there, but it would look suspicious if we’re both out.”

“Thanks, my man. I don’t think I could stand to be in the same room as you know who this evening, plus I really don’t want to leave Spike in this state. If he woke alone and in a strange place, there’s no telling what he’d do. And I want to try and get him to eat some more.”

“Sounds like a plan. Catch you later, dude. Good luck with Blondie.” One last look behind him at the pair, and Gunn closed the door behind him as he left.

Turning his attention back to the vampire, Lorne ran his fingertips over the pronounced cheekbones, marveling at how much better he looked in such a short timespan. “Alright, cookie – I’ll let you rest for a bit. We’ll try some more blood in a couple of hours. I’ll be reading in the rocking chair if you need me.”

~*~

_He must be crazy – hearing things._

_Buffy? Can’t be her._

_She left – They all left._

_She doesn’t know._

_She won’t come for him._

_Too much to ask for, this time._


	10. The Game is Afoot

**Hell Is In the Details – Interlude – The Game Is Afoot**

Buffy toed off her shoes and threw herself face-first onto the luxurious bed in her borrowed room. God, she was exhausted. That dinner party had been a colossal bore. Her face hurt from holding onto a smile of the damned for literally hours on end.

‘Hello, I’m Buffy – nice to meet you,’

‘Yes, it’s true – I’m _that_ Slayer,’

‘No, I certainly don’t miss guarding a Hellmouth.’

All night long, the same questions! Over and over and over again. And all night long, the same answers. She could have sent the Buffybot for all the sparkling wit or personal opinion she’d been allowed to exhibit.

And she’d been plastered to Angel’s side for the entire evening – paraded around like a show dog. It wouldn’t have surprised her if some of the guests had thought about prying her mouth open to look at her teeth. She’d practically had to ask permission to go pee!

If parties like this were going to be a staple of her new life with Angel, they were going to have to have a talk, and soon.

She remembered being introduced to some of the original Fang Gang – Gunn… and Fred, was it? Definite issues between Gunn and Angel. An undercurrent so thick you could have cut it with a dull butter knife. They’d stared and postured and waltzed around each other like prizefighters before a match.

At one point, it seemed as if Angel was sniffing at him like a dog! Buffy shuddered, delicately. No matter how much time had passed, that scenting thing was the one vampire sense that really, really creeped her out.

For the umpteenth time since she’d decided to make Angel part of her life again, Buffy pondered her choices. She missed the companionship of someone who knew her life from top to bottom. Someone who she didn’t have to explain things to, who knew what being the Slayer had done to her. Who knew her heartaches and her losses and would never inadvertently bring those subjects up to cause her pain.

Angel fit the bill, He knew almost everything that mattered about her. She’d loved him once, fully and without reservation. And he loved her. So why wasn’t she more enthused?

For a change, she wanted to talk. Needed to talk this all out with someone who wouldn’t judge her and find her wanting.

She needed Spike. It was so easy to picture in her mind’s eye and ear, the way the conversation would go:

_Spike, my brain’s all muddly. I don’t know what to do about Angel._

_~That ponce? Why are you bothering with him for?~_

_Be nice, you. I need someone in my life and since you’re no longer here, he’s the next best thing._

_~Bloody hell, Slayer – who are you kidding? You don’t need anyone but yourself. And I’m always here for you, pet. All you have to do is open your heart.~_

_I wish there was some other way, Spike. I’m not as strong as you think._

_~Yeah, well – he’s a right git, that one. Don’t let him push you around, luv. You’ve always been perfect for me. Loved your highs and your lows.~_

_You never judged me, even when you should have._

_~Got no high point on which to stand, do I? Can’t help who you love – you just do.~_

Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She wished she could just keep her eyes closed forever and listen to the sound of his voice.

~*~

Angel was thrilled. Walking into his suite, he quickly undressed and tossed his clothing into the hamper for the maid service to pick up in the morning. The smile he wore, however, he knew he wouldn’t be able to lose for a week.

Buffy had been just perfect tonight, dressed to the nines in a blood-red velvet gown with matching heels, making her at least four inches taller than her petite five feet two. Arm in arm they’d greeted his guests and employees. She’d been everything he could have hoped for – charming and sweet, winning over everyone she met.

He couldn’t remember a better night at Wolfram & Hart. Except for one little flaw… Gunn. Something was just… off about the man. Wary and ill at ease – hearkening back to the days when the street punk had first allowed his guard down enough to work with a vampire.

And his smell… something had pricked at Angel’s senses when he’d scented Gunn tonight. Something almost familial, with hints of terror and resignation. A heady aroma, but disconcerting. Was it possible he’d run into Dru?

The only other time he’d smelled quite that combination of aromas was… William! That was it. When William had first fledged, he’d been terrified. Angelus had taken full advantage of his situation to ‘teach’ William the finer points of submission and family pecking order – by beating and fucking the fear out of him until he’d come to expect and then crave the attention.

Angelus had relished destroying the last illusions of self-esteem the younger vampire had. Drusilla was a wonderful tool, and he’d used her to crack the thin veneer of importance and place William had wanted with his new ‘family.’ Tease and taunt, pretend to allow and then snatch it away at the last moment – that was the perfect way to break William down.

And the nights he’d taken his frustrations and pleasures out in William’s ass were the sweetest of all. He’d never been easy; always put up a fight before being beaten and overpowered. Plowing into that virgin hole for the first time was like being strangled by an iron fist in a velvet glove, and he’d made sure to ‘shake hands’ with the boy as often as possible. 

Angel could feel his demon crowing even now over those delicious memories. In his own way, William had been as much a masterpiece of devastation as Drusilla ever was. But that was done – over with.

He shrugged the memories off like an old coat. Those days were gone, Spike was gone. Unimportant in the scheme of things.

Buffy was all that mattered now.

He’d grinned to himself. Oh yeah. He had some wonderful things planned for the pair of them…


	11. To Be or Not to Be

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 9 – To Be Or Not To Be**

Lorne awoke to the odd sensation of being watched. Slowly and cautiously he rose from his rocking chair and headed over to the bed. Spike hadn’t moved an inch from the position Lorne had left him in.

He tried to remain calm and soothing. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll just bet you were checking out Uncle Lorne when my eyes were closed. It’s all right, Spike. I’m just here to help. You can trust me.”

No reaction.

He sighed. “Didn’t think that would be enough to convince you, kiddo – but you have to give me points for trying. I’ll be back in a flash. Just gonna heat up some breakfast downstairs. You’ve got to be hungry.”

When he was sure the demon had left the room, Spike opened his eyes. He was weak – weaker than after that church organ had consigned him to a soddin’ wheelchair for months. He’d be unable to defend himself if this one wanted to hurt him.

But Spike knew he’d been with… Len? No, Lorne – that’s what the other being called him – for hours already. He hadn’t taken him or hurt him once since he’d regained consciousness. Pret had never allowed him so much rest between appointments before.

He attempted to test his limbs, to see his range of movement and muscle strength.

Nothing.

Not so much as a bloody twitch.

What the fuck had they done to him?

Exhausted from his feeble attempts to move his body, Spike barely heard the green-skinned demon re-enter the room in time to shut his own eyes.

Lorne laughed, softly. “It’s okay, Spike. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s safe for you to open your eyes. C’mon, sweet-cheeks. Open up those baby blues and see if you recognize me. We’ve met before, you know. Briefly.”

Spike opened his eyes again, and returned Lorne’s gaze as the demon stood to the side of the bed, holding a mug of ~ _human, by the smell of it_ ~ blood. Spike was ravenous.

Lorne reached for a straw, and sat down on the side of the bed, next to Spike. “Do you want to try and feed yourself, or do you want me to hold the mug for you?”

Spike tried to do two things. First – to raise his arm. Spectacularly unsuccessful. Second – to ask for the proffered help. The resultant croak surprised both men.

“Never mind, sugar. You’ll be your old self in no time,” Lorne soothed.

Spike’s eyes widened tremendously and he began to shudder. Lorne blinked in surprise. An odd reaction – why would he be shaking his head ‘no’ at the mention of getting his voice back? Could they have damaged him more than…?

He pushed on, trying to calm the beleaguered creature. “If you can suck this goop up through the straw, fine. If not I’ve got a spoon here with your name on it. You can thank me, later.”

Fear, then resignation skittered across the vampire’s face, registering in the droop of his head and rigid body language.

Realizing that he’d been totally misunderstood, Lorne rushed to set the vampire’s mind at ease. “Oh, Spike! No, no, no – I didn’t mean what… oh hell no. No monkey business, I swear. I just meant you can show off your party manners when you’re able to speak. So you can tell me what happened.”

Spike swallowed convulsively, trying to calm down. He’d been prepared to vanish within himself again. There was no way he’d be able to survive another round of ‘hurt me – fuck me’ the way he was feeling. 

Lorne could see the incredible effort Spike was making to stay with him. Such a bad choice of words to have panicked him so badly, though he wasn’t sure what or why. Placing the mug down on the night table, he fluffed a few pillows , and helped prop the vampire up into a reclining position – all the better to drink if he was able.

Lorne held the straw to dry lips, pleased when Spike managed to open his lips to take it in. With an obvious effort, the sable haired vampire managed to suck down half the contents, before closing his eyes from exhaustion.

“You done, kiddo?” the empath asked, moving the mug away.

Spike slowly shook his head ‘no’ and opened his mouth once more for the straw. The rest of the mug’s contents were consumed rapidly.

“Good job, mi amigo. You sleep now and let all that yummy goodness work its magic on you. I’m off to the showers, then downstairs to try and figure out our next step here, and I’ll be back to see if you need anything, soon. Sleep well.”

~*~

_Food and rest._

_Peace._

_It would have been so easy just to slip away again._

_Who was this Lorne, and why does he seem familiar?_

_Don’t care right now. Want to trust him. Need to trust someone._

_Sleep is… good._

~*~

Freshly scrubbed and dressed – totally blood and other substances free, Lorne felt like a new man. A little breakfast settled his nerves. A few moments reprieve from his patient upstairs were all he asked for.

It wasn’t as if Spike was much trouble. Outside of the whole Nurse Lorne routine, with the added perk of removing the most horrific body accessories he’d ever seen, Spike was not difficult to care for. Heating up a couple of mugs of blood wasn’t an imposition.

No, what stressed him out wasn’t the physical work involved in caring for the vampire – it was the emotional toll of seeing his suffering due to the actions of another. A man he’d called a friend without hesitation less than three days before.

If _he_ felt betrayed by Angel, he could only imagine how crushed Spike must have been upon learning of his Sire’s treachery.

Lorne also knew that he couldn’t avoid Angel forever. _The best defense is – hell, the best defense would be running away, but since that wasn’t an available option – the best defense is a good offense._

And so, though plenty nervous, the empath called in to the office, in hopes of heading off any angry vampire vibes from the boss.

“Hello, Angel-kins,” he chirped before Angel could start talking – or ranting. “Just wanted to tell you how so so sorry I am for not getting to party with you and your little twinkie last night. My poor Ramone was just a mess, and he needed me to…”

Angel’s glower could be felt through the phone. “Look, Lorne – that was an important party for me. Buffy’s giving up the whole slaying deal to be in my life again. I need my people to show a united front. To show Buffy that Wolfram & Hart is more than just its evil reputation – that it’s about family and friends.”

The emotionally overwrought demon snapped; the absolute hypocrisy in Angel’s words made him ill. “What the hell do you want from me, Angel? I’m tired. I’ve been up all damned night between Ramone puking his guts out and askin’ for his mama. I’ve already apologized for not being there to greet the little woman. Give me another week or so and I’ll mount a damned musical number for everyone’s enjoyment.”

At the anger from the normally placid Lorne, Angel backpedaled faster than a biker in traffic. “Whoa, big guy – calm down. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not entitled to a little personal time. And tell Ramone I hope he feels better. You’ll have to bring him around sometime, maybe to our next fundraiser,” Angel demurred.

Lorne wilted. God, it all sounded so fake now. “No, I’m really sorry, Angel-cakes. It’s been… a really long night, and I just need to crawl into my little bed and…”

The door swung open at that moment; Lorne waved his hands frantically, hoping Gunn would keep quiet until he got off the phone.

“Sorry for the interruption – the mailman was at the door. Ramone, fundraiser, yeah – sounds good. Another time then, boss?”

Paying no attention to Lorne’s farewell cue, Angel continued. “Tell you what. I need a favor, and it’ll make things copasetic between us. I’m going to be stuck in meetings all Friday, and since your schedule is already freed up and if Ramone feels better in three days, I’d like you to take Buffy out on the town for the day. Some shopping, a little lunch – you know, schmoozing. As a favor to me.”

~ _Shit, he should have known he’d get stuck chauffeuring Angel’s trophy girl around like a glorified babysitter. He’d have to get Spike to a healthier place before Friday if he had any hopes of leaving him alone for hours._ ~ But what use fighting it? “Fine, babe. Just tell me the when and where and I’ll pick the little lady up and squire her around. Gotta go now, lamb. Nature calls. Ciao.”

He barely had time to close out the phone call when Gunn grabbed his shoulders.

“Man, I thought you’d never get off the damn phone. I’m tellin’ ya, we’ve got a big problem. You an’ me were all over Spike. And last night, despite several showers, Angel was sniffing me up and down like I was the only available fire hydrant around for miles. It freaked his little girl out.”

Jamming his hands into his pockets, along with his phone, Lorne couldn’t contain his curiosity. “So dish, cookie. What’s the what with little Miss Buffy Summers?”

Both men were startled by the crash from upstairs, complete with breaking glass. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, worried as to what they would find in Spike’s room, they were met with one very pissed off vampire leaning back against the pillows, and the bedside lamp, knocked down and shattered on the floor.

Gunn smiled broadly. “Look at you, man! A bath, a night’s sleep and a little blood and you’re a whole new vamp.”

Spike stared at the man. His eyes flashed from blue to amber and back again, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest.

Gunn held up his hands in mock surrender. “Take it easy, dude. I’m safe – promise. Lorne and me? We’re the ones who got you out of that hell hole. Not gonna hurt you now.”

Lorne moved cautiously to the bed. “Come on, dumpling. You want me to tell you where we met before?”

Spike nodded, slowly.

“You’ve got to keep calm about it – I promise I’ll explain fully, and you really can trust us, okay?”

Once more, the vampire nodded.

“Gunn and I work at Wolfram & Hart, for Angel. We were there when you first popped out of that amulet in his office.”

Spike’s growling resumed, louder now – irises a solid amber but gameface held at bay by sheer will; his body tensed for betrayal.

Lorne was stumped. What could he possibly say to ease the agitated vampire’s mind – to disassociate themselves from Angel’s deeds and to prove they were on his side?

“Alright, Spike. I understand we’ve got a bit of a lack of trust situation here. I suggest a truce for the time being, until it’s all sorted out. Can you handle a truce? Understand neither me nor Gunn will hurt you in any way, or inform Angel that you’re here?”

Spike hissed, possibly in an effort to actually say ‘yes’ and nodded in acquiescence.

Lorne motioned for Gunn to come closer to his side of the bed, so the vampire could see them both at the same time.

“Before we get into the questions – both yours and ours, are you hungry? Would you like another mug of blood?”

Spike managed to hold up two fingers. Obviously that last mug of blood had done him some good.

Gunn snickered. “Man, after working with English for so long, I need you to clarify your response. Do those two fingers mean you want two mugs, or you want us to fuck off?”

It was the humor that finally broke the ice. The amber bled from Spike’s eyes, leaving them a deep shade of blue – as his lower lip curled up in the subtlest of smirks. This time, he held up one finger, indicating Gunn’s first choice.

“Cool, dude. Be right back with the liquid refreshment.”

When they were alone, Lorne turned back to face Spike. “It seems as if your healing’s kicked in, boy-chick. You certainly weren’t able to move the last time I saw you. Question is – can you talk? Say something to me, crumpet – anything.”

The vampire’s good mood vanished abruptly, as he thumped his hand against his chest, eyes flashing amber once again with his agitation. With a voice as raw and creaking as a rusty hinge , he gritted out a single syllable – “ike,” almost too softly to be heard.

Lorne edged closer. “Would you mind repeating that, kiddo? I know it’s been awhile, but I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

Faster than the empath thought possible, Spike grabbed onto his shirt, fisting the material and not letting him go. “Spike,” he said, still rough, but clearly this time.

He tried to remain calm, unwilling to goad the vampire’s demon with a show of fear. “I know you’re Spike, crumpet. Real clear on that fact.”

Surprisingly strong arms shoved Lorne away and he staggered a few steps, just far enough to be clear of the flying debris when Spike hooked his arm around the nightstand and yanked it away from the wall.

Spike – still yellow eyed – again jabbed his fingers towards his chest, then pointed at Lorne. Lungs heaving from the effort of drawing in enough air to form words, the vampire snarled “You. Call. Me. Spike. M’not food,” as tears coursed down his face, from both frustration and not a little pain.

Serendipitously, Gunn chose that moment to arrive with the vampire’s heated blood, and immediately noted the tension in the air and Spike’s tear streaked face.

“There a problem here guys? Something in particular set off the weepy?”

Abashed, Lorne took the first mug from Gunn’s grasp and held the straw out for Spike. “Just me sticking my size too big foot in my mouth. Sorry, Spike. Ask anyone – pet names are just so me. Wolfram & Hart is one big bakery where I’m concerned. Confections and endearments are just second nature to me, but I promise to try and remember to use your name, since it so obviously upsets you.” 

His head never lifting from the straw, Spike nodded his acceptance. He drained the contents of the mug quickly, then turning to Gunn, rasped, “More, please,” and reached out for the remaining mug.

“You sure you can handle this yourself, Spike?” Gunn was dubious, but unwilling to refuse the rapidly healing vampire anything.

“Need to try.”

“You got it, dude. Don’t worry if it drops – there’s plenty more downstairs.”

Two shaking hands reached out and grasped the mug, its contents sloshing slightly, but not spilling over. Carefully grasping the straw between his lips, Spike managed to drain the second mug.

Lorne grabbed the mug before it fell from the exhausted vampire’s grasp.

“Can you talk for a bit, swe.. Spike? I know you’re pooped, and I’ll stop if you need to sleep, but I’d like some answers if you can.”

“Yeah. Try to.”

“What happened with my poor lamp? Was it sacrificed to get my attention?”

Spike managed a small smile at the demon’s mournful expression. “Yeah, sorry. Heard you two talk – party?” At Lorne’s incredulous expression, he added, “Vamp hearing,” pointing at his head.

“Eeeesh, that’s scary – no hiding things around you, then.” A twinkle in his eyes assured Spike of his good humor.

Gunn crossed his arms and thought before speaking. “You wanna know what’s the what regarding that party you know who had last night?”

Spike nodded.

“You ever heard of Buffy Summers?”

The vampire cocked his head, looking at the man as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his shiny forehead.

“Bloody hell... bastard never told you? Me an’ the Slayer – six years. Knowin’ an’ fighin’ – helpin’.”

Gunn was visibly upset. “Since the day you disappeared, Spike, he’s not mentioned your name. Told us you’d toddled off to find your good times elsewhere.”

Spike’s bravado faded at that last lie, the remnants of his strength deserted him and he seemed to vanish back into the pillows.

Gunn and Lorne exchanged glances. Something more going on here than met the eye, and they’d have to find out what. Lorne picked up the blanket from the foot of the bed, settling it over Spike’s body and tucking it around his shoulders.

“You need your sleep now, cru – Spike. Sorry, habit, as I might have mentioned. Before we leave you to your beauty rest – is there anything we can get for you?”

Looking up at him with unfocused eyes, already halfway asleep, Spike murmured a single word:

“Buffy.”


	12. Come What May

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 10 – Come What May**

_“Welcome back, sweet thing. Did you really think I’d let something as accommodating as you go without a real fight? C’mon now – open up those eyes and remember who you belong to.”_

Spike awoke in a panic, a guttural scream bursting forth from his very soul. He couldn’t move – he was held down and restrained! He struggled weakly, giving up as he slowly sank back towards the oblivion he’d occupied forever.

Lorne was near panicking, himself. He could feel Spike slipping away, as his muscles went lax within his arms. He’d yelled at and shaken the panicky vampire – anything to get Spike to focus on the here and now. Nothing helped. Instinct took over, and Lorne soothed him as one would a frightened infant. He pressed a kiss to Spike’s forehead. Another to his temple, all the while stroking his long green fingers gently through the vampire’s hair and along his neck and shoulders.

Spike moaned.

Just a little sound, half conscious and thready… but it went straight to the empath’s cock, settling into a slow tingle low down in his belly. Caught up in that sound and the moment, Lorne continued placing gentle kisses… on Spike’s cheekbones, eyelids, the tip of his nose, and ended with a soft glide against his lips.

Realization set in, and Lorne started to pull away, horrified at his own actions. 

Spike’s arms snaked around the retreating man’s neck, holding him close – returning the gentle pressure with his own mouth, soft and steady – slowly opening to run the tip of his tongue against the seam of the other man’s lips.

One more closed mouth kiss, and Spike pulled away, whispering a heart-felt thank you against his lips.

Lorne was stunned – and deeply ashamed. He couldn’t look directly at Spike, and turned away, rubbing his hand over his face. “Look… don’t. Just – what the hell are you thanking me for? I took advantage of you, after all you’ve been through, and –”

“Oh pet, don’t go there.” Spike’s voice was weak, but steadier than before. “You gave me comfort. First I’ve had in… I can’t remember. What day is it? I don’t even know how long I was gone for.”

Unable to turn back and look the vampire in the eyes, Lorne murmured, “It’s the end of May, Spike.”

“Huh. Just a few weeks, then. Feels like longer.”

“May, 2005.” The empath stared at the floor, bracing for Spike’s reaction. He wasn’t disappointed, or surprised.

“Bloody hell. You tellin’ me I lost an entire year of my unlife? I’ll be fucked… oh. Oh!” He groaned, grabbing at his hair in distress. “It’s real then – what happened. Not just a nightmare?”

Lorne looked crestfallen. “Spike, I swear… if any of us had known – if we’d had an _inkling_ of what had been done – of where you were…”

“Here, now, I told you to stop that.” Spike startled Lorne by shushing him with a gentle finger on his lips. “S’not your fault, mate. You trust who you trust, an’ you had a history with the bloody tosser. He’s got sides nobody but me an’ Dru ever saw, and you should be real grateful for that.

“Problem is, he was actin’ off, last I recall. More over the top-like than I can remember. Still a bit fuzzy on the particulars, an’ m’not in the mood to talk about it all if that’s all right with you?”

Lorne dared a careful look back at the vampire, feeling the hand of friendship that was bring extended. “So not a problem, my friend,” he said slowly. “Listen, if you’re up to it, what say we have a chat about other things over a nice mug of blood for you and a latte for me? I seem to remember you asking for someone before you fell asleep last night, and it bears discussing. I’ll just go and… uh… yeah.”

The empath beat a hasty retreat, clearly still rattled by what had happened. While he was gone, it took Spike a moment to recall just what Lorne was talking about.

_Balls. And a fun time’s to be had by all._

Lorne returned with their respective drinks, along with a platter of assorted cookies. “I don’t suppose you…”

Grabbing a chocolate chip cookie, Spike dunked it into his mug of blood and bit into it with obvious relish. “S’pose I do at that, Lorne… is it? I love to eat, mate. ”

Lorne shook his head. “You’re not at all what I expected, Spike. From what I’ve seen, I’d say you’re pretty unique amongst vampires. Certainly have a hell of a will to survive.”

“Just bloody stubborn, pet. ~ _Might as well grab the bull by the bloody horns._ ~If I’m to go out at someone’s hands, it’s going to be at the Slayer’s. That’s Buffy. We got enough history to have that as a promise. I need to go – she takes me out.”

Lorne blinked. “Whoa there, buckaroo. Are you telling me you want Buffy to come and kill you? After all this you’re just gonna lay down and die – dust?”

“Not hardly – dunno what the chit’s gonna do when she finds out I’m still unliving. Last she saw I was falling to dust in the bottom of Sunnyhell. Just need to give her the option. ‘Course, I’d rather she be happy to see me, but with her… you just never know how she’s gonna react. Amongst our lot, comin’ back from the dead’s not overly novel.”

Spike drained the last of his blood and placed the mug on the nightstand with a thunk. “As for the ‘unique amongst vampires’ bit you’ve pegged me with, I’d say rare, instead. After all, there are two souled vampires in the world, as much as I’d like to dust the bastard, myself.”

Lorne was shocked at what he’d just heard. “Okay – I think I need some explanations here. The information about the battle in Sunnydale was never clear-cut. Angel’s been very secretive about a lot of things from what I’m hearing, specifically your role in it all. Not to mention your relationship with Buffy, and he’s never said a word about you having a soul.”

As if he were trying to visibly hold himself together, Spike wrapped his arms around his body. “Don’t know how to make sense of it all, mate, but I’ll be simple as I can: Had some bad issues, went to Africa and survived the Trials, asked for my soul back. Buffy an’me? Mortal enemies, very reluctant allies, lots of twists in the middle and we ended up battlin’ the First together. Angel’s little trinket burned me from my soul out, wiping out the Uber Vamps and sucking down the town into the Hellmouth. Gone now, ‘cept for me being back and all.”

“Huh!” was all Lorne managed to say.

“So, my life’s a right mess here. What’s the chance of findin’ the Slayer for me, mate? Seem to recall some sort of party bein’ thrown for her?”

~ _Criminies – how to explain this without letting on about Angel and Buffy’s plans_ ~ “You’re in luck, kiddo. Turns out I’ve been asked to escort the little lady around town this Friday – two days from now. The boss is stuck at meetings all day, and doesn’t want the little lady to be bored. I do believe a meeting can be arranged.”

Spike ran his hand through his hair, a look of disgust gracing his features. “You think we can do something about this mop? Right now I’m bettin’ I’m real glad I don’t reflect. An’ clothes. Don’t know how I’m gonna…”

“Never you mind, Spike. I’ll arrange for one of my contacts to come in and fix you up any way you like, and I’ll provide a beginning wardrobe of your choice. You can always pay me back when you get back on your feet. I’m not hurting for moolah, believe me.”

The look on Spike’s face caused the empath to pause. “What’s the matter, kid? You look like you lost your best friend.”

“S’not really important,” he sighed. “It’s just…the one piece of clothing that ever meant anything to me is gone.”

Lorne grinned. This he could make better. “I’ll be back in a flash, Spike. I think I’ve got something to bring the smile back to that pretty face.”

When he returned moments later, the duster held out in front of him, he knew he’d done at least one thing right. Spike saw the beloved leather coat held out in the green hands that had comforted him, and Spike… Spike wept.

Healing tears.


	13. Truth Will Out

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 11 – Truth Will Out**

By the time Friday rolled around, Spike was a nervous wreck. He’d bitten his fingernails down to the quick, and fidgeted so much that he’d pulled the sheets off the bed at least three times before his host had threatened to staple his ass to the mattress.

He was healing nicely on the surfeit of blood he had available. His body mass was at its peak, having been well fed on human blood for the first time in nearly a decade. The worst of his bruises had faded into blossoms of dull purples and olive greens. The wounds from his ~ _shudder_ ~ piercings had finally healed over into nothing more than angry pink scar tissue, and that too would fade away in time. Physically, at least.

His upper body strength had returned somewhat. Fine motor skills were good, and he could maneuver his body around on the bed, but his legs… another story entirely. Not paralyzed, thank whatever powers listened to the prayers of souled vampires, but they were unable to bear his weight due to the nerve damage he’d suffered from being bound, chained, and vamphandled for so long. Just a matter of time, he hoped.

His hair was freshly bleached and cut; he’d had a manicure (which he’d ruined) and even a pedicure. The little girl Lorne had called was worth her weight in gold for the care she took with him.

Best of all, Spike’s throat and vocal chords were almost completely healed, though the damage had left him with a slightly raw, husky quality to his voice Lorne swore to him was guaranteed to tie the undies of either gender into knots.

True to his word, Lorne had picked up some clothing for him – his archetypical black jeans and t-shirt, and a brand new pair of Docs – though he’d added his own unique flair via a silver studded black leather belt adorned with a hobnail silver buckle.

The only problem left with getting properly dressed was… well… Spike was still quite sore, and the harsh denim would rub unpleasantly in all the wrong places. Especially taking into consideration the lack of anything between the vampire and his jeans.

Lorne grinned as he brought in a fresh silk robe for his recumbent guest. “Sorry, cutie pie. Guess you’ll just have to entertain your Slayer in style. If she doesn’t want you, I might just make a serious play for you, myself. I think you look absolutely delicious in grey silk.”

Spike’s face wore an answering grin. “Nah, mate. As appealing as the offer is, I think I’ll see what the lady brings to the table. Won’t say no to a snog now and again, though. Nothing like a pair of demon lips to get a bloke’s motor runnin’.”

“Oh, go on, you rascal!” Lorne scolded, but not-so-secretly, he was charmed – and delighted with Spike’s progress. Four days. Four days was all it had taken for the luscious creature on his bed to change from a bloody bruise to sex incarnate. Four days to go from petrified to trusting to joking. And if he was hooked… Miss Buffy Summers didn’t stand a chance.

~*~

Buffy was a bit on edge. Her last few days with Angel had been – well – interesting. Moonlight walks that weren’t patrols and dinners in fine restaurants, though she was the only one who ate. Several long stretches during the day where Angel was involved with Wolfram & Hart business, and she was chauffeured to the beach via company limousine. 

And then… there was sex. After so long, there was Angel-sex again.

Buffy slumped in her seat.

Yeah, she’d slept with him after that first night. It was soft, and sweet – reminiscent of their first time, without the spectacular soul losing results in the morning. Missionary position and over after one go-round, which left her… well… lacking. What with Angel’s vampire senses, she hadn’t dared to go to the shower and relieve herself. Being told you couldn’t satisfy your lover was _not_ the way to start off on the road to happiness.

And that’s why she found herself in Wolfram & Hart’s lobby, wishing she could find something to tear apart limb from limb.

A tall, bright green demon with red horns resplendent in Ralph Lauren and silk, came into view, cheerily calling out her name.

Lorne extended his hand in greeting as he approached. “Hey there, cupcake, I’m Lorne – your host and chauffeur for the day. You must be _the_ Buffy Summers I’ve heard so much about. Sorry I wasn’t at your little soiree the other night. Sick friend and all that.”

Buffy was amused. Only in Los Angeles would you be able to go out with the Jolly Green Devil, himself, and have people brush it off as a publicity stunt.

“Time to fly, my little chickadee – your chariot awaits.” Lorne extended his arm, linking elbows with his charge. “So, where do you want to head first – somewhere to eat or somewhere to shop?”

She smiled. “What self-respecting woman wouldn’t want to go shopping first?”

~*~

The car was a work of art – a true classic: a 1959 Cadillac Convertible, all gleaming chrome and white, with black and white leather interior.

Buffy was duly impressed. “Wow! Gorgeous car, Lorne. I’ve never really been around old classics before… just once, really.”

“Oh? Tell Uncle Lorne all about it, sugar… nothing like a classic automobile to show yourself off in.”

She sighed. “Well, it wasn’t in good shape, sorta banged up and battle scarred. But it was loved. It was an old black DeSoto. Meant everything to its owner. Called it his best girl.”

“Come on, chica – wipe that frown right off your pretty face. A couple of hours at the Beverly Center and you’ll forget whatever it is making you so sad.” Grinning, he waved one of the company credit cards in the air. “Especially since this trip is funded by the big guy, himself.”

The drive was pleasant, the company affable – nothing like a little girl talk about fashion and inane gossip about celebrities to ignore the traffic and eat up the miles to your destination. Lorne tuned the radio to an ‘all music, all the time’ station and let it play low in the background.

Buffy stared out her side of the car, lost in thought. It was a beautiful day, hardly any clouds in the sky, and she began to hum along with radio – the tune hauntingly familiar. By the end of the last stanza, she was singing the lyrics softly to herself:

The silence of a falling star  
Lights up the purple sky.  
And as I wonder where you are  
I'm so lonesome I could cry.

Lorne almost drove the car off the road from the pain and sadness he felt pouring off the girl.

Buffy turned to Lorne, pout in full evidence. “Hey! I know I’m not all diva-ish, but I’m not so bad that you have to kill me to shut me up.”

“Sorry, kitten. Just got a bit distracted.” With a grin, the empath asked, “Do you mind if we have a slight change of plans? I forgot that there’s something I need to tend to at home. We can go out afterwards, if you’re up to it.”

“Not a problem for me. I’m all flexible-girl these days. No schedule, no job, no unattended little sister to rush home for. Take me away – I’m all yours.”

“Your wish is my command, cupcake. Let’s see if we can’t make all your dreams come true.”

~*~

Lorne ushered the petite blonde into his home. “Listen, crumpet – I’m going to be in the kitchen for a bit. Why don’t you take the nickel tour upstairs, and I’ll join you as soon as I can. Oh, and I’ve got a friend staying in one of the bedrooms – sorta bed-ridden at the moment. It’s part of why I wasn’t at your soiree the other night. He’s just dying to say hello to you. Pop on in and give the boy a thrill.”

Buffy frowned. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to disturb anyone. What if he’s sleeping?”

“Never you mind, missy. You walk on in and make with the greetings. I’d do anything for the kid. He’s had a really bad year.” He gently pushed her towards the stairs. “Now go, you! Spread some happiness and explore.”

 _God, awkward much?_ Practically stomping up the stairs, Buffy couldn’t imagine her day getting any weirder. First, she was shunted off to the Jolly Green Giant who’s apparently on ‘distract girlfriend with shopping’ duty, then _he_ sent her upstairs to be on ‘boyfriend cheering’ detail.

Peering into a couple of empty rooms, Buffy quickly guessed which would be the occupied guestroom, and knocked gently on the door before cracking it open and slipping in. She walked over to the bed, trying not to disturb the sleeping man. Her internal diatribe continued unabated. What was she supposed to say to this guy? _“Hello, sorry to wake you up, but Lorne told me to barge on in ‘cause you wanted to meet…”_

She froze, eyes glued to the bed. Her mind refused to process what she saw, pinning her in place – unable to move forward or back; unable fall down.

He looked like Sleeping Beauty – if Sleeping Beauty were a hot, gorgeous guy with bedhair in a grey silk robe, reclining against a mountain of magenta pillows. Pale skin, long pretty lashes curling over impossibly sharp cheekbones, full pouty lips... everything that she remembered paled next to the reality of what she saw before her.

~ _It can’t be_ ~ He was dead… dusted, her mind screamed. Vanished practically before her very eyes. He’d refuted her long sought after confession as he forced her to leave him there, in unspeakable pain, trying to do the right thing for the world – and her.

Buffy felt two strong hands on her shoulders and in her ear, Lorne whispered, “Go to him, kitten. Be gentle, though. He’s not as strong as he seems.” With a swat to her rear, he pushed her forward. “Standing here ain’t gonna break the spell.”

Her paralysis broken, Buffy made her way to the bed, unable to believe that Spike ~ _Spike!_ would let anyone ~ _her_ ~ so close, leaving himself vulnerable… open to attack and probable death – without awakening.

Buffy’s anger got the better of her. “You bastard!” she whispered. “All this time I’ve mourned your passing, honored your sacrifice and tried to move on with my life and you’ve been lying here on your ass in the fucking lap of luxury, dressed in silk?”

She leaned over the bed, ready to shake the sleeping vampire until his teeth rattled for keeping her in the dark, when he shifted slightly. His robe gaped open at the neck, revealing the last of the bruises and cuts that decorated his pale chest.

A small cry escaped her lips and she sat down heavily on the bed. “What happened to you, Spike?” she murmured, ghosting her hands over his marred chest. “Who could have marked you this fucking badly?” Her eyes closed, and tears fell silently down her cheeks.

Then, without a sound to warn her – the touch of another. Buffy gasped at the feel of Spike’s cool hands covering her own. She opened her eyes to the glorious sight of the vampire’s unabashed adoration.

“You’re here,” he rasped, his voice husky and raw, laced with overwhelming emotion and the last of the damage.

“Here,” she whispered – before she realized that she was livid, and tried to snatch her hands away. “Where the hell else would I be, you idiot! How long have you been back? When did you get hurt? Why the fuck wasn’t I told about this?”

Buffy turned to the door where the empath was unobtrusively lurking. “Hey, green boy! I think you’ve got some heavy duty ‘splainin’ to do. How long has Spike been here? And why haven’t you told Angel?”

_Shit!_

Spike’s grip tightened on her hands. “What makes you think he doesn’t know, pet?”


	14. Bloody Minded

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 12 – Bloody Minded**

_“What makes you think he doesn’t know, pet?”_

Spike’s quiet words burned into her brain. They filled her mind, screaming accusations even as she tried to silence them.

Buffy’s eyes widened with disbelief. “No! There’s no way he could know about you, Spike. All this time – the whole freaking year that we’ve been in touch – he _knew_ how heartbroken Dawnie and I were after Sunnydale. How we mourned our losses. You and Anya… all those Potentials… we even held a memorial service. He was all supporto-vamp.”

She looked to Lorne, pleading with him to refute Spike’s words. “We were… we were going to try and work things out between us. You know that! He wouldn’t – not to _me!_ ”

Lorne shook his head sadly. “Sorry, cupcake. It’s true – all of it. And more. Our little Spike’s been here with me for only the past four days – but he’s been back from the beyond since early last June.”

Buffy couldn’t begin to process the empath’s statement. “No, no, no,” she whispered, over and over, shaking her head.

Spike tried to get the hysterical girl’s attention, hoping a little humor would ease the way. “Look, just ‘cause the green bloke makes Tinkerbell look butch, doesn’t mean he’s lying, pet.”

“Buffy,” Lorne said, “I get that you don’t know me from Adam, and I know you’ve got to be in shock. You’ve been hit with a surprise that was guaranteed to knock your Manolo Blahnick’s off. Add the nasty reveal bit and I can understand it knocking you for a loop. But don’t you think you should talk to your guy – find out what he’s been through? We can talk about the other problemas later.”

“Oh God, Spike.” she whimpered, looking deep into the vampire’s pain filled eyes. Buffy knew that she’d hurt him, deeply – several times over.

“Luv, you don’t owe me anything,” he gentled. “No explanations for going back to the poof. S’your life, to live as you see fit.” Spike lifted her chin, gently forcing her to maintain eye contact. “S’what I died to give you – the life you wanted.”

The sobbing blonde wrapped her arms gently around the vampire’s neck, slowly so as not to hurt him; settling her head in the crook of his neck. This, ~ _this_ ~ was what she’d been missing. Buffy knew she was being selfish – Spike was the one who needed her comfort, after all – but the sheer rightness she felt stilled her for just a moment longer.

“I think you lost track of what I really wanted, Spike,” she murmured into his neck. Buffy raised her head, releasing the vampire from her soggy embrace. “Those last days we spent together were so damned intense. You saved my life, saved my sanity and… and… allowed us all to survive.”

Buffy reached out, stroking a tear stained cheekbone, as Spike leaned into her touch. “When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. Every. Single. Word.”

Sensing a protest forming once again, Buffy leaned in, silencing him with a soft kiss to his mouth. Just a delicate pressing of lips, but oh, so rife with possibilities. Gathering her resolve, Buffy was determined to continue – getting this out in the open once and for all.

“I did love you then. With every fiber of my being. Loved you for who you were, and who you’d become. Loved the fact that it was for me.” She nodded, smiling up at him. “Yup! Selfish enough to finally admit that. I know you changed for me – in the beginning.

“The man I left to die was on his own path. How could I _not_ love you?”

Lorne’s heart ached for them both. The opportunities they’d missed, the chances they had ahead of them… and the niggling feeling that he, himself had lost a very promising possibility. Unable to stand the intensity of the emotions pouring off the couple, he slipped out of the room, unnoticed.

Spike was completely and utterly gobsmacked. Who was this girl, and what had she done with Buffy? The sincerity shining from her beautiful hazel eyes could not be denied. But still, he knew there were things left unspoken. For a change, he would let her continue at her own pace – they had time.

Buffy gathered the stunned vampire’s hands in her own, placing small kisses on his fingertips. She struggled momentarily – the words were difficult to admit to herself, much less the man in front of her.

“The question hasn’t been _if_ I love you for a long time; it’s _how_ I love you. when you came back, Spike – when I’d found you in the basement… I was scared. I’d had to face some damned ugly truths about both of us over that summer, and could barely look at myself in the mirror.”

“Buffy, don’t,” Spike pleaded, unable to keep silent any longer. “Don’t go there again. It’s over – we’ve long made our peace.”

She nodded. “Yes, we did – by letting it go. I never told you how sorry I was over how badly I handled the whole soul revelation thingy. It was overwhelming, to say the least. But it moved me. It colored everything I did in one way or another. You finally became a priority to me, usually over everyone else’s objections.

“You believed in me, pet. You rescued me body and soul. S’not something to be forgotten.” He was wary, still unsure as to the direction of her revelations, unwilling to expose more of himself than he already had.

Buffy sighed. “We never had a chance, Spike. To make up for all the hurt we’d caused each other. The time just wasn’t there. I swear, apocalypses have a personal grudge against me and my love life. When you died… the last time, anyway – the only time it mattered to me – I knew I’d lost my chance to ever make things right with you.

“I threw myself into the social circuit with a vengeance. I dated, and had a rather active… um.. “

Spike smiled, taking pity on her. “You screwed around like a kitten in heat?”

Wham, bam, no thinking involved here. “You’re a pig, Spike! Say something else,” she begged.

“You fucked half of Europe and found nobody who could compare to yours truly?” Oh yeah, he was pushing his luck now.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you – missed this! More, Spike. Come on, give it to me good!” she laughed.

“Decided you’d spread your dimpled knees for one too many tossers, and came back to give the King of Celibacy another go?”

_shit_

Okay, _that one_ wasn’t quite so funny. Buffy sobered up quickly, looking a bit forlorn.

“Sorry, pet… you know I’m a bad, rude man.” Never had he wanted to take back words so badly.

She folded her arms round herself, shrinking into a small bundle of misery. “No, Spike… you were all too accurate, as usual. It’s exactly what I did. Gave myself away hoping to give away the misery and loneliness, too.

“I was grasping at straws with Angel. I loved him with all that I was – when I was sixteen years old. I held everyone to that standard and they all failed, miserably. I shoved him in your face more often than my fist.”

Spike sighed. “Not arguing with you there, luv. At least the pain from your pummeling went away quick enough.”

“You were gone, Spike. No way to make things better. No way to heal and explore possibilities. Normal and me? Still unmixy things, so I decided to try and rekindle things with Angel. Familiar territory, you know? He loved me. I knew it. How hard would it be to learn to love him back again?”

“Ah, the whole party thingie, right? All Queen for a Day presentation to the masses?”

“Oh yeah,” she confirmed. “And I ended up feeling like a prize show dog.”

“It’s what he knows, Buffy. Darla used to parade him up and down like a prize bull. Sort of a ‘see what I’ve got, and you don’t’ deal.” 

She sniffled, rubbing the backs of her hands against her eyes. Spike thought she looked about eight years old, and he was enchanted.

“It was so clear in my mind, Spike. I even had conversations with you about it, in my head.”

Spike was amused at this revelation. “And what did I in my infinite wisdom tell you?”

Buffy snickered. “Actually, you called him a ‘git’ and told me not to let him push me around.” On a more sober note, she admitted, “And you also told me you loved me at my best and worst, and wouldn’t judge what I chose to do. Gods, I missed you so much. You know, those times we actually talked?”

He nodded. There really wasn’t anything to add. He’d missed all of her. Talking to her, screwing her, any way she’d let him into her life. It’s just that he’d always wished for more.

“This isn’t quite the time for it, I think,” Buffy said, “but when you’re feeling better I’d like to try and figure out where we stand with each other. If there _is_ a we to talk about. You game for that?”

Spike smiled. “Yeah, pet. I think I’d like to talk about us. Sounds bloody wonderful, since you’re askin’.”

“Great. Now we really do need to talk about what’s happened to you, Spike. As much as you’re willing to tell me. I can’t go on until I know the truth. Do you want me to go get Lorne? It’s likely he knows more about what happened to you recently than you do.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea, pet. An’ if you could bring up a couple mugs of blood I’d really ‘preciate it. All this talk’s made me a might peckish, an’ my throat’s a bit sore.”

Before Buffy had a chance to get off the bed, Lorne appeared at the door with a large serving tray. 

“Had a feeling it was time for my spotlight number. Also? Yummies for all.” He handed Buffy a mug of steaming hot coffee. “I assumed you were a caffeine addict, like me. Spike? First of several O Pos mugs for you. And for the storyteller in all of us?” He uncovered the treat in the middle of the tray.

Simultaneous cries of “Cheesecake!” rang out from the bed.

Forgive me for being so bold, kiddies, but I’m gonna be all mother-hen here and begin the tall tale. Spike’s throat was rather damaged, and I think he could use a rest. There’s only a small part he’ll be able to fill you in on, anyway.”

“Have at it, mate. I’d rather wrap my mouth around this cheesecake, anyway.” Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head at the delicious sensation of the cool, smooth cheesecake sliding down his aching throat, followed by a swallow or two of blood. “Best damn thing I’ve… never mind. Go ahead, Lorne.”

The empath settled into his chair. “Okay, boys and girls. The tale starts the third week in May, 2004. Angel had called a meeting of the department heads. That meant the CEO himself, Charles Gunn, Winifred Burkle, Wesley Windham-Pryce – and me. Harmony was in and out of the office – playing secretary; delivering the mail.

“Angel was going on about how much good we’d be able to do, even while working from within the evil law firm. He was toying with a small manila envelope, tossing it from hand to hand after ripping off a strip at the top, when a certain amulet dropped onto the floor. Before he could pick it up, it began to glow and spark, and before we knew it… Blondie over here popped out in the leather covered flesh.”

Buffy was stunned. “You’re telling me all of three weeks after I nearly watched you disintegrate, you show up in Angel’s office all undead and pretty? And nobody thought to tell me?”

“Now, luv,” Spike defended, “you have to understand. I asked – first thing. About you an’ Niblet and the rest of the Scoobies an’ bitty slayers. The plonker said you were all fine, traipsing about Europe and unreachable.”

“Fine,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “So he lied to you. I missed seeing you by one fucking week. And he continued lying to me ever since by omission. Please… do go on.”

Spike hesitated. “It was all so bloody stupid. Like a schoolyard bully, he was. All I wanted was a place in this world. I figured he owed me. Wouldn’t tell me where you were, wouldn’t give me a handout to leave. Yeah, I busted his balls about things. S’what we do, or did, anyway – family, you know?”

Lorne became concerned when the vampire hadn’t spoken for a couple of minutes. “Are you okay to continue, my friend? You’re lookin’ a mite pale, even for you.” 

“Yeah, mate. S’rough, though. You got that framed piece of shite nearby? Girl’s not gonna believe me tellin’ it. I still don’t believe it.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around the shaking vampire and took in a deep breath. She had a feeling that the rest of this was going to be bad. So very, very bad.

Spike gathered up his nerve, and launched into the remainder of his story. “The second day was bad, luv. We were going at each other like a prize pair of idiots, punchin’ an’ pushin,’ callin’ each other names. Him tellin’ me I was a useless piece of crap, always was an’ always would be. That you’d told him you were right glad I was dust in the wind and out of your hair. I told him he was nothing but a jealous bugger. Real mature-like.

“Then it was all over. He just stood there, all calm an’ quiet. I twigged it was all over. We’d shouted out the shit again, until the next time. Next thing I knew, he’d shot me. Three times in the back with a tranq gun.”

A wave of greater horror rolled off the Slayer, enough to worry Lorne. “Buffy, honey? Are you all right?”

“The rest… tell me the rest before I throw up. I don’t want to do this more than once.” She shook with the impact of what she’d just heard.

Lorne handed her the framed Sire’s Rights document. She read it, then looked from Lorne to Spike, and back to the frame in her hands.

Quiet and deadly, and one hundred percent Slayer, she turned to Spike. “Are you telling me that bastard sold you like an unwanted pet?”

“More like an unwanted son. Into a demon slavery and prostitution ring,” he whispered, eyes dropped, unable to look her in the face.

Buffy nodded. Very, very calmly. Then: “I’ll kill him,” she growled, grabbed her purse and slammed out of the room.


	15. The Devil Incarnate

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 13 – The Devil Incarnate**

Spike glared desperately at Lorne. “Go!” he begged. “Catch her before she leaves.”

Lorne didn’t bother answering, just ran out of the room and down the stairs. In the main room, he found Buffy angrily rooting through the contents of his desk, tossing things about like a wild woman.

“Buffy, wait.” He gulped to catch his breath. “Girlfriend, you can’t just go off half cocked. First of all, you’ve left one very upset vampire upstairs.”

She snarled at him. “I was looking for a piece of mail with the damned address on it, so I could call a cab and head back to Wolfram & Hart.” Waving the frame wildly in the air, she fumed. “How could he do this? Spike is his family! Or was his family. I just don’t get how a piece of paper can separate someone from his own bloodline.”

Impeccably timed, at the mention of the vampire’s name, there came a loud thump from upstairs, followed by a stream of the bluest curses ever uttered.

Lorne winced. “Damn, I’m gonna run out of furniture by the time Blondie heals enough to leave. Are you coming back upstairs with me, cutie? I have a feeling someone needs our help.”

With a sigh, and her righteous anger abated only for the moment, Buffy followed the empath back upstairs… to find Spike sprawled on the floor, robe and blanket twisted around his naked body, exposing far more damaged skin than she had seen before.

Even from the floor, Spike was an imposing figure in his anger. “You bloody, stupid, thoughtless, buggering _bitch!_ he spat. “Not back in my life a half-day, and you’re making decisions that aren’t yours to bloody well make – about things you don’t understand.” 

Buffy was stunned. He hadn’t cursed her out in years, ~ _outside of pillow-talk, that is_! and it cut her to the quick. After all, she’d been off in his defense and… oh damn. That must be part of it, his damned pride. And then she realized he was still a muddle on the floor, unmoving.

Her eyes widened with the knowledge that he was unable to stand _Oh, no!_ She dropped to her knees by his side.

“Christ, Spike. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…” The image of pink scar tissue in very tender places was going to remain with her for a long, long time.

“Summers, if I had any pride left at all where you’re concerned, I’d kick you the hell out of here. But, I don’t and there ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before. Just a bit more banged up than usual, s’all.” His bravado all but gone, he whispered, “Just help me up… please.”

As if snapping out of a trance, Lorne strode to the vampire’s side, and with Buffy’s help, settled Spike back into bed, pulling the robe closed once more to cover the damage still evident on his skin.

Lorne looked pointedly at Spike. “If you two kiddies are okay, I’m gonna make myself scarce for a bit. Seems as if you have a few issues that need airing. If you need me, I’ll be downstairs. Just give a holler.”

When they were alone, Spike reached out. Grabbing Buffy’s hand, he gently tugged, until she was sitting on the side of the bed next to him. She stared fixedly at the wall, unwilling to look at him.

Spike sighed. “I’m sorry, pet. I didn’t mean to take off so on you. First thought I had was ‘Bloody hell, she’s such a magnificent bitch, all puffed up with Slayer strength.’ Problem is, you’d ping off every magical security measure that Wolfram & Hart has in place. You’d never get near ‘im in the state you’re in.” He paused, unsure as to how much the girl had actually heard. “Buffy, luv, look at me.”

She turned, tears gliding down her cheeks. “What the hell did they do to you, Spike. God, what I saw… and your legs. Please,” she begged. “Please tell me you’re not… again.” She couldn’t bring herself to form the words. The thought of him being stuck in a wheelchair again made her ill.

“No, sweet girl. Not paralyzed, not this time.” Spike cupped her chin, raising her head to look into her eyes – to see the compassion shining there, just for him. “There’s been some nerve damage and they don’t hold my weight yet.” Wiggling his toes, he smiled. “See? I’ll be right as rain soon enough, I bloody well hope.”

Like a little girl, Buffy wiped her teary eyes and runny nose on the back of her hand. “I’m so tired of seeing you hurt, Spike. Especially if I’m to blame.”

Spike snorted. “Gotta admit, I’m tired of looking like a bleedin’ Pollock paintin’ myself. I know I’ve said it’s always all about you, Buffy – an’ it might have been what ticked over the poof, but this shite wasn’t anything you can take blame for.”

“Well, it’s not all about me, I get that. So why don’t you tell me what that… that… paper means to you,” she spat, pointing at the frame she’d dropped on the floor, earlier.

“Dunno how much you know about vampire lineage, pet… but I can make it simple. You can trace your family backwards, from your father and mother – to their fathers and mothers, right?”

Buffy nodded.

“Vampires trace their lineage from the beginning – the head of their Order. In my case, the Watchers diaries got somethin’ right - they have the Order of Aurelius marked as my lot. Aurelius turned the Master, who turned Darla, who turned Angelus, who turned Dru – who drained me… but it was Angelus who actually turned me.”

Exasperation colored her voice, “Another lie, then. What is it with you guys lying to me over and over again? Do I have ‘not worthy of the truth’ sign stamped on my forehead? Why would you deny Angel as your Sire? Isn’t that just as bad as what he did to you?”

Spike stiffened, the weight of his impending confession causing his shoulders to slump. “Buffy, when we had our ‘discussion’ about Spike – the Slayer of Slayers, we weren’t exactly best mates, were we? I lied. Was pissed off at the stupid pillock for near a century, and denied his role in my life to you and everyone else. Except myself. Never myself. I might have hated the bastard, but for over twenty years, he was my bloody God and father.”

Buffy reached out for him – to offer what comfort she could, but he flinched away, pulling tighter into himself.

“What Angel did, was cast me out of the family and out of the whole bloody Order. He denied me to himself, and the rest of the demon world. Do you have any idea how many demons have seen that by now? Have heard of my disgrace? This was the worst insult he could have done. Selling Sire’s Rights means the vamp – usually an incorrigible fledge – cannot be taught to mind. Too bloody stupid to be brought to heel and become a working part of the family unit, he’s better off elsewhere or dusted.”

Raising his head, Spike looked directly into Buffy’s eyes, boring into her very soul. “Luv, I was one of the youngest Master Vampires in the history of our Order. Been able to care for myself an’ Dru against all odds after the soul hobbled our Father. I’ve not been a burden on anyone since I’m ten years turned. Can you even begin to understand what his betrayal meant to me? What it still means to me?

“S’like taking your name out of the family bible, an’ sayin’ that you never existed. No little Buffy, firstborn of the Summers clan. No elder sister to Dawn. No Buffy, ever. An everyone knowin’ you’re still here – walkin’ around, unwanted and meaning less than trash to those who bore you.”

This time, Buffy pushed through the anguished vampire’s defenses, gathering Spike into her arms and rocking him gently. Mercifully, he relaxed into her embrace, accepting her comfort and gaining strength from it.

“S’why I gave up fighting, once I found out my lot in life. The demon who’d bought me took great delight in telling me how worthless I was to my Sire. He cut me – scarred me.” Spike brought Buffy’s hand to his neck, where Angelus had claimed him. “He desecrated the familial mark. Everyone would be able to tell I’d been ousted from my Order. I’d have been better off dusted.”

Buffy looked at the bite mark, or rather where the mark had been defaced. An ugly jagged cut bisected the claim. She stroked her fingers over the mark, then placed a kiss on the same spot.

“Never worthless, Spike,” she murmured. “A definite pain in the ass, but never worthless.”

Relief flooded his system. Never, _never_ had he expected this level of compassion from the girl. Yeah, they’d gotten closer over the years, but this directly involved Angel in the role of twat, and she’d never been able to accept that before. He burrowed deeper into her arms, allowing himself the comfort for a while longer.

For her part, Buffy relished the feel of the vampire in her arms. Spike was hurting, badly. And for a change, she was able to offer him relief, as he’d often done for her in those horrid days fresh from the grave. It felt damned good as she gently stroked his strong back, fingers playing in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

She branched out, running her fingers in figure eights over Spike’s shoulders, when he flinched. Buffy pulled the robe away from his shoulders, noting the massive discoloration still in evidence.

“Alright, Spike, this has gone far enough,” Buffy demanded, releasing him from the cradle of her arms. “What the fuck happened to you at this place? If you’ve been here for four days, glutting on the best that humans can shed, according to Lorne… why the hell are you still all banged up? These have got to be long standing injuries. Talk to me, please. I need to understand.”

Spike closed the robe around his body, easing back to lie on the pillows. “S’not an easy tale to tell, pet. Haven’t even spoken of it to Lorne, and since he’n Gunn are the ones who found me passed out cold, I’d wager what they found was worse’n I remember.”

“You need to tell someone,” she encouraged. “Believe me, when you hold stuff back, it’s a whole world of badness. You remember our year from hell? If I can spare you that, it’s worth listening to it all now. I may not be all stoic-y, but I’ll listen.”

Spike sighed. “Just do me a favor an’ don’t look at me for a bit. I couldn’t bear to see you, hearin’ all that was done.”

Buffy nodded and turned around, backing up on the bed until she could rest her head against his shoulder. “This okay, Spike? I’ll even keep my eyes closed. I just… just… hold onto me, and tell me what you can.”

He placed a kiss on the crown of her head, grateful for her warmth; grounding him for the personal hell he was about to unleash.

“I remember comin’ to, face to face with a S’lugith demon – not one of your overly beastly types – all red hair and little horns. Taller’n me and outweighed me some. Whatever I’d been shot up with kept me sluggish and muzzy, so’s fighting wasn’t the wisest way to go. He stripped me, an’ I don’t think I wore another stitch of clothing until I came to, here.” Spike’s hand crept into Buffy’s lap, fingers intertwining; another point of contact and comfort.

“The tosser shaved me, bare as a babe – and had me collared, cuffed, ringed an’ chained to the wall. Left me hungry, too. Can’t say as much as it mattered at that point, just slept the best I could. The real fun started the next day.”

Spike’s fingers tightened around Buffy’s, finding strength in her quiet acceptance. “He cuffed me open like a bloody starfish on the cot I slept on, pet,” he sobbed. “He gagged me and fucked me and if I had a wish comin’ to me at that moment, I would have asked to die again. To stay dead. And every day for weeks he did the same bloody thing.”

Buffy couldn’t stand it anymore. Spike’s chest hitched from the emotions roiling through his body. She turned around and kneeled up, straddling his slender hips and wrapped her arms around his trembling torso.

“C’mon, baby. You can get through this,” she crooned. “Get it all out and we can move past it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Spike calmed slightly in her arms, enough to go on. “It all went wonky from there. I lost track of time. S’like I wasn’t there no more, an’ I don’t know where I went. Went hungry lots, the S’lugith stopped comin’ regular for awhile. An’ when he came back regular again, he sent other demons in to me. Bit one, I think – far as I can remember. Lost m’fangs for it.”

That was all she could take. Disentangling herself, Buffy ran to the bathroom and tossed up the refreshments she’d had earlier. She splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth before walking back into the bedroom.

Carefully, she sat back down on the bed. Spike had resettled himself on the pillows, looking far calmer than he had been when she left.

“M’alright, Slayer. C’mere an’ look.” He opened his mouth, showing her his almost fully erupted incisors. She ran her finger gently along the gumline, as if reassuring herself that he was indeed, fine.

“Luv, I don’t know how to thank you. For just listenin’ and not thinkin’ less of me. As bad as the physical shite was… the demon in me is more freaked by being Orderless. No Sire for last chance reprieves, no hope for help… it hurts. Demon and soul, pet. We’re just lost.”

Buffy shook her head. “You need to listen to me, Spike. You are not alone. From now on, you’ll always have me by your side. You need anything, and I’ll do what I can. Right now, I have to go back to Angel. He’ll get awfully suspicious if Lorne doesn’t bring me back. But I promise you… I’ll see you later this evening. I just need… to clear my head and settle some things.”

Spike relaxed further into the bedclothes, weariness evident in every line of his being. “Don’t do anything stupid, pet. I need you back here. Not gonna lose you again,” he slurred, well on his way to falling asleep after his emotional upheaval.

“Don’t you worry, Spike,” Buffy promised. “I’ll be back.” Brushing a few errant curls from his forehead, she kissed him, and left.

~*~

Less than an hour later, she stood outside the door to Angel’s office.

Angel looked up from his paperwork. “Buffy! Glad to see you’re back from your day with Lorne. How’d it go?”

“It was cool. Saw lots of interesting things,” she said. “Actually, shopping is overrated. I did enjoy spending time with Lorne. He’s got the dirt on so many people. You’d be amazed who we gossiped about.”

“Nah, Lorne’s got dirt on everyone. I’d hate to piss him off. I’m glad he kept you entertained, ‘cause this paperwork will be the death of me. I’ve still got hours to go, baby. Can you keep yourself busy?”

 _No way._ Buffy put on her best pout. “Aw, Angel, I missed you so much. Couldn’t you just cancel the rest of your appointments for the day? Please? For me?”

One look at her pretty face, and he was lost. “You’re not good for the company, Buffy, but I can’t refuse you when you beg so prettily.” A few phone calls later, and he was free.

“Good!” She climbed onto his lap. “I’ve got so much to share with you, Angel… I don’t know quite where to begin.”


	16. Hell Hath No Fury

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 14 – Hell Hath No Fury**

Buffy smiled brightly, wiggling her bottom on Angel’s lap. “You know… this whole thing has worked out lots better than I ever expected it to. I mean, I had a fairly nice life in Rome, met tons of interesting people and never had to worry about Dawn. But I missed the old and familiar.”

“Hey!” Angel jostled her teasingly. “Is that any way to talk to the man you love? Calling him old and familiar?”

“I guess not,” she giggled. “The ‘old’ certainly fits. It’s just the ‘familiar’ I’m not so sure about anymore.”

Angel frowned. “What do you mean, I’m not ‘familiar’ anymore? I haven’t changed. Vampire, remember?”

She reached out to touch his face, willing herself to appear happy and carefree. “It’s not so much your appearance, though I do have to mention all that yummy otter blood you go on about? Must be richer than pig ‘cause you’ve filled out a little from our earlier days.”

Angel laughed out loud. “Are you telling me I’ve lost my girlish figure? Buffy, I’m hurt.”

“Nah… well, just a little. Then again, I’ve put on a couple of pounds, too.” Which she emphasized by once again bouncing lightly on his lap. ~ _Think of Spike, think of Spike, think of Spike_ ~ a mantra running through her mind. It was the only way she could do this, especially feeling the way – he – was starting to react to her wiggling. But if her little lap dance was enough to keep Angel off kilter… It wouldn’t do to have the supposed vamp in her life smell the other vamp in her life on her – damned vampire bloodhound.

Angel’s big hands kneaded at the curves of her waist. “Oh yeah, you’re just breaking my… lap with all that extra poundage bouncing around. I’m sure we can figure out a way to work it off,” he mused with a lazy, indulgent smile. “So tell me, how am I unfamiliar to you?”

She smiled brightly. “Well, first of all, you’re not quite the Broody McBroodypants you used to be. You smile and laugh, and at the party you threw for me… us? You were quite the social butterfly.”

“And this is a bad thing?”

“Again with the ‘no.’ It’s just part of the not familiar.” She stifled a sigh, wondering how to get the conversation back on track. “You’re making me sorry I brought it up in the first place. I’m losing my happy mood.”

He shrugged. “Don’t fret, Buff. We can always pick apart my differences another time. Why don’t you just tell me about your day?”

“Oh yeah.” She bounced again, determined to keep him going. “I’ve gotta tell you how happy I am that you had Lorne show me around. He’s sweet. And we had so much in common. We talked about clothes and shoes, which was all of the good. That demon’s got a wicked sense of style.”

Angel was amused. “So, you ladies had your girl talk. What else did you do? That certainly didn’t take up the entire day.”

Buffy shook her head. “Nope, not even close. God, we must have talked for hours! Lorne was worried about his ex-boyfriend, and I got to talking about my exes. I told him there was no way I’d be as kindhearted as he was in taking an ex into my home to nurse back to health.” She pretended to pout. “He laughed at me, Angel! He said I’d just have to see how sweet his ex was, and took me home to meet him.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Lorne would bring home every stray he meets. He’s too kind hearted for his own good, Buff. I think this Ramone he’s got holed up is the one who ran off with his money a couple of years ago. You must have been bored out of your mind, meeting this guy.”

Angel stopped, tilting his head as if he’d suddenly come across a puzzle that he wanted to solve. He nuzzled the left side of Buffy’s neck, relishing her increased heartbeat, her arousal… and the something else that had caught his attention. Something he couldn’t quite place… “Buff, did you run into someone we know, by any chance? Or come up against a demon? There’s a strange scent coming from you that I just can’t place.”

“Eeeew, Angel! How many times have I told you that scenty-thing you do is way creepy?” Buffy made a moue of disgust. “You did it to me that last night in Sunnydale – with Spike. It made me feel like a peed on hydrant. If you wanna know why I smell weird, it’s ‘cause Lorne served some lovely refreshments but the cheesecake decided to come back and take a bow. Eau de Vomit Buffy – that’s me. I’ll be all right, thanks ever so for asking.”

Angel winced, but hid it quickly. “It’s alright, Lover,” he soothed. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Are you feeling better? No more tummy ache?”

~ _It’s now or never, Buffy. Get the show on the road. Sarah Bernhardt, eat your heart out!_ ~ 

Buffy nestled into his lap and looked up at him, endearing as a child. “Angel, we need to talk. I’ve got to put some issues behind me before embracing our future together as a family.”

She stroked the side of his face, all the while keeping eye contact. “It’s been a bad year for me, Angel. You know that. I’ve spent hours on the phone with you, crying over my losses. I’ve missed Mom and Tara. Their graves were a comfort to me. I’ve missed all the little girls who died in our cause, and we have nothing to remember them by. Now, I want to talk about you.”

She sighed. “The oddest thing is, I miss Anya and Spike so much. Brave and loyal, no matter how badly we treated them for years. I was so proud of them both.”

Lifting her tear-streaked face, she asked, “Did you ever mourn for your son?”

Angel swallowed his panic. Surely she had no idea… “My son? I never had any children, Buff. It’s part of why I broke up with you all those years ago – so you could have a normal life with someone who could give you children.”

“But I don’t understand.” Buffy pulled out all the stops, fluttering her lashes and letting tears shine through. “Spike told me when a vampire Sires another vampire, he becomes a childe. And the Sire is the Father or Mother. Don’t you miss your children, Angel? Dru, and Spike? How can you feel any peace at all, not knowing where one is, and knowing that the other is dust from saving all of us.?

“With all we’ve been through, family is the most important thing to me. You and I are now the heads of our respective families. My father doesn’t count, which means it’s just me and Dawnie. You’ve only got Drusilla, wherever she might be. What I want to know, is have you ever mourned Spike’s passing? Have you ever honored his sacrifice – or the fact that he more than likely saved you from disintegrating?”

Angel shrugged his shoulders. “He’s dust, Buffy. Gone and forgotten. Who’s going to mourn a dead parasite?”

Buffy was horrified, and couldn’t hide it even to keep her plan going. “How can you say that? Even the Scoobies had a memorial service in his honor. Giles, even. And he’s _your_ childe. As close to a son as you’ll ever have. Spike told me it wasn’t your cuckoo-bird Drusilla who turned him, but you. Doesn’t that make you responsible? Shouldn’t you care if he’s undead or gone? Why aren’t you proud of his accomplishments?”

Angel’s expression shifted from amiable to irritated. “I don’t get what the big deal is, Buff. Dru is off somewhere, doing her own thing like countless other vampires. Spike is dust. Gone. Finito! He was a murderous bastard, and now he’s gone. One less blight I unleashed on the world that I have to worry about these days. What’s the big deal to you?”

Buffy kneeled up on the chair, her thighs straddling the vampire’s lap. “You really have no clue, do you?” she growled. “What it means to have family… to be a part of a family… to take care of your family above all other things?”

Reaching behind her back in her most practiced move, Buffy withdrew a wooden stake from the casing sewn into the waistband of her skirt. She drew back her arm, and plunged the stake into Angel’s chest.

“I do this in the name of your childe, Spike!”


	17. Flesh and Blood

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 15 – Flesh and Blood**

With a final push, Buffy got off the chair, wiping her hands on her skirt.

Angel couldn’t help but yell, a look of panic in his eyes as he waited to dust.

And waited.

In vain.

Buffy’s stake pinned him to his padded leather chair. The business end poked straight through the muscle and bone of Angel’s shoulder into the other side of the chair, with the remainder sticking from his chest approximately three inches above his heart.

She was in full Slayer mode, and not to be denied. “Angel, if you move more than a quarter of an inch, I can guarantee I have another stake with your name on it – and this time, I won’t be playing games.”

Wesley threw the door open, a crossbow trained on Buffy before he walked through the door. “Step away from Angel, Miss Summers. You shan’t be allowed to harm him.”

“Can it, Wes,” Buffy spat, without looking in his direction. “As long as he sits on his ass in that chair, he’ll get to unlive another day. Now, get me Charles Gunn.”

Wesley hesitated, clearly torn between leaving his friend and boss alone with the apparently crazed Slayer, and getting additional backup. He looked to Angel for guidance.

Angel grimaced, clearly in pain. “Go get Gunn. I don’t know what the hell she wants with him, but since I’m stuck here for the moment – humor her.”

“Smart move, Angel,” Buffy growled, pacing in front of the desk like a lioness observing her downed prey. “I’ll give you a chance to tell me just what the fuck is wrong with you. Try and pull anything or call in backup, and your dust will be settling on their shoulders before they reach you.”

“Can I pull this thing out of my shoulder while we ‘talk’ about whatever it is that’s got you upset?”

Buffy glowered. “Have I made my point about you staying right where you are?”

“Not gonna move a muscle, lover.” Angel glared at her and reached for the stake. He grunted through the pain, as he grasped the end of the stake, pulling it through both padding and muscle, blood slowly oozed from the wound left as the wood exited his shoulder.

The office door opened – Gunn entering first, nodding to the Slayer as he moved into the room. He was followed by Wesley and – Harmony? At the last moment, Lorne squeezed into the room, sidling over to stand by Gunn.

Angel looked disgusted. “Need an audience for this, Buffy? I thought you liked to do your staking alone.”

“You know? I’m gonna reconsider my offer. No more words from you unless I ask you a direct question.” Hands on her hips, the Slayer glanced around the room, sizing up potential allies. “Harmony, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, Wes said you went all postal and staked Angel, but he wasn’t dust. And then he went to get Charles and Lorne showed up,” the nervous vampiress babbled. “And I’m just here to help if I can. It’s like, my job to help, you know?”

“Fine, as long as you… wait a minute. Just _who_ are you here to help?”

“Um… whoever wins?”

The Slayer shook her head. “Enough! Go sit down, Harmony, and just keep out of the way.” She glanced back at Angel.

“I asked you a question before. Do you remember it?”

Angel smirked, infuriatingly calm. “You asked me a lot of things, Buff. Wanna try being specific?”

Buffy wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug expression from his face, but decided restraint was the better part of valor for the moment. His questions could wait.

She turned towards her audience. “You’re all somewhat familiar with Spike’s past regarding Angel, and the whole Scourge of Europe thingy, yes? All baddest ass vamps that roamed the continent, killing and drinking their way through history until Angel got cursed with his soul for chowing down on the wrong entrée.

“And I don’t have to repeat Angel’s business here in Los Angeles, since you’ve all lived it. What I want to know, Wes,” she said, staring at the former Watcher, “is how much your boss has told you about Spike since you’ve been working together.”

“Well, about William the Bloody,” Wes murmured, “not all that much, exactly. That he’s Drusilla’s get, for one. And he’d tortured Angel over the Gem of Amara. Pretty much nothing else after he’d been neutered by that Initiative chip and forced to work with you for cash and sustenance.”

Eyes cold, emotions held in check, Buffy asked one final question. “And do you know where Spike is now?”

Without hestitation, Wes replied. “Last I heard, Angel said he’d gone on to seek his fortune elsewhere. They’d done nothing but fight like cats and dogs ever since he arrived at these offices.”

_Oh, shit!_

Buffy looked over at Angel, who’d finally realized the direction of the fishing expedition she’d been on earlier.

She turned back to Wes. “I suppose you don’t know that the last time I saw Spike, he was burning to ash at the bottom of the Hellmouth – making sure the Uber Vamps were all dusted, and everyone still alive made it out safely. He wouldn’t leave with me, you know. I tried to get him to go when all the vamps were dusted, and the walls were coming down around our ears. He made me go, saying he would stay to do the clean up.”

Buffy took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions under control. “And that for the past year, Angel has helped me get through my grief at losing my equal in battle. A vamp who fought by my side night after night for no other reason than I asked him to. A vampire who fought for and won back his very soul.”

A low murmur ran through the room as the news of Spike’s soul made the rounds. A soul? When did this happen?

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce drew himself up to his full height, and turned to face Angel. “Surely this cannot be, Angel? _Two_ vampires with souls? It would have come to someone’s attention. For a demon to actually seek out and fight for a soul is epic!”

Angel looked at the man he once considered his closest friend, his expression calm and unbothered. “Ooops? I never thought it was important; it was only Spike, after all. Considering he was gone in two days, it wasn’t worth mentioning.”

“Are you insane?” Gunn stormed across the room, banging both fists on the desk in front of Angel. “You tellin’ me you knew Spike had a soul and…?”

Lorne pulled the angry man out of the line of fire. “Whoa, buckaroo. Back off and leave the big guy to the little woman.” When they were no longer the focus of attention, the green-skinned demon silently motioned for Gunn to control himself. 

Harmony, of course, had her own two cents to chime in. “Ewww, so now not only is he a Slayer loving freak – he has a soul, too? What is it about the Slayer that turns strong vampires into mush?”

Wes looked baffled. “Angel, I don’t understand how you could keep such information to yourself? Why did you let Spike leave? Surely the two of you could have worked out your differences, and become a formidable team against the evil we fight on a daily basis.”

Buffy decided that enough was enough. “Yes, Angel. Tell me, please. Why did you let Spike leave? Did it slip your mind that I might have wanted to know he’d risen like a phoenix? Did my crying on the phone for hours at a time not remind you how I’d mourned for my… companion for weeks after I’d gone to England?”

“Yo, Blondie! Head’s up!”

Buffy looked towards the back of the room, just as Gunn tossed something her way – catching it on the fly. A quick look at the object in her hands, and she knew things were about to heat up. She placed the bag with the receipt and silver ring in front of the annoyed vampire.

“Would you mind explaining this to me, lover? Why do you have one of Spike’s silver thumb rings?”

~ _Keep calm, she can’t possibly know anything._ ~ Angel smiled. “Simple, really. If it is his, at all. It probably just fell off his finger and the housecleaning staff left it on my desk. How can you be so sure it’s Spike’s?”

It was Buffy’s turn to smile – unpleasantly. “You know that Spike and I had had a long standing sexual relationship, right? I mean, you claimed to have smelt him all over me in Sunnydale.”

Angel looked very uneasy. “Yeah, well, it’s not something that fills me with joy to think about. Still doesn’t tell me how you know that’s his ring.”

“Sorry, baby. I’ll explain. Spike was rather… shall we say, imaginative. He could have me screaming in less than a minute flat with the help of that very ring, so I’ve got to tell you – I could identify it blindfolded. Have, in fact. Many, many times.” _Ha! Stuff that in your pipe and smoke it, buster!_

There were two vampires and four humans in attendance. Buffy’s smirk graced the only closed mouth in the office.

“Ooops! Was that just a little TMI for the crowd? So sorry.” Her peripheral vision registered Angel’s movement behind her. One smooth move behind her back and a flick of her wrist later, a spare stake was embedded in the chair, next to Angel’s head.

“Did I not make myself very clear about the whole not-moving thingy before? Besides, my little party’s just beginning.” Buffy removed the ring from the plastic bag and placed it on her middle finger. It was a bit loose, but she gained some measure of comfort knowing it was out of Angel’s possession for good.

She removed the receipt from the bag. “Okay, back to lawyery mode. I feel I’ve established the identity of the ring’s proper owner – now it’s time to move on to the next item. This receipt says you delivered some sort of property to a place called Dante’s, and it was signed for by a… Pret? It makes me wonder what the hell it was that you delivered.”

 _Focus, Buffy – don’t let this get away from you_ “I mean, in the short time I’ve been back with you, I’ve seen you delegate everything from chairing meetings with important clients to picking up your dry cleaning to your little minions. They hop and bow and scrape for Angel, the King of Wolfram  & Hart. Why would you take the time to hand deliver something worth what? A dollar?”

They stared at each other from across the desk, neither combatant giving an inch in their battle of wills.

“This would be a lovely time to actually say something, Angel,” she muttered. “You wanna tell me just what kind of a place Dante’s is? ‘Cause if not, I can always get someone to help you out.”

Angel glowered. This certainly didn’t bode well for him, but maybe – _if he got really lucky_ \- she was just blowing smoke, and he’d come out of this with just his dignity slightly frayed.

“It’s been awhile, Buff,” Angel mused, making an arrogant play of checking over the receipt. “Dante’s… let me think. Oh yeah, Dante’s. A demon club with a strict no-humans policy. The owner and I knew each other way back in the day… and I was just repaying an old debt. The money was just token – making it legal. No biggie, baby. I got rid of something I didn’t want, and he got something he did. Don’t tell me you’re coming down on a fair trade now, are you?”

This time, the scuffle from the back of the room was Gunn, restraining a visibly angered Lorne.

Buffy seethed. How could he be such a callous bastard? He had to know how close he was to being exposed, and yet he sat there playing to the crowd, so sure of himself.

“Um, you guys?” Harmony raised her hand, desperately looking like she had something to say.

“Not now, Harmony. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something here?” Wes snapped.

“Fine,” the vampiress sulked. “Just don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

Lorne walked over to Buffy. Handing her the framed document, he whispered, “I think it’s time, cupcake. The crowd is growing restless, if you catch my drift.”

Buffy nodded, gripping the frame tightly in her hands. She took a deep breath, stilling within herself, ready to confront Angel head on and forever destroying the remnants of their once perfect love.

“How can you sit there, you sanctimonious bastard, and lie to me?” She slammed the frame down on his desk, shattering the glass. “How could you stand to look into the faces of your friends and tell them Spike walked out of here of his own free will?”

 _Okay, so maybe a bone-shattering injury would accompany that tattered dignity,_ Angel thought as he recognized the document and his signature. “You’re sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you, Buff,” he made one last attempt. “How I run my life and deal with my friends is none of your business. Anything I did was legal and above board, according to vampiric Lore and demon laws.”

Buffy threw back her head and laughed – a truly ugly sound, much to the amazement of everyone in the room.

“So, because you stuck to the letter of the Lore, you think your actions are justified? You _sold_ a member of your own family – if not by flesh, then most certainly by blood – and you’re okay with it? How dare you,” she seethed. “What gives you the right to play God with another soul?”

Angel grabbed the shattered frame and stood. “This gave me the right,” he spat, waving it around, spraying shards of glass in all directions. “I owned his ass lock, stock and balls. I’d had enough of his shit and exercised my rights as his Sire. He’s gone now, surely dusted long ago, so there’s really no need for this melodrama, Buffy. Get over it.”

Emotion juddered through Buffy’s small frame as she ranted on: “You fucking bastard. You mean to tell me you sold him, walked away and never checked up on what happened to him? Couldn’t even be bothered to confirm his third death?”

Pause. The room waited to hear Angel’s answer.

In the silence, a scuffle was heard in the hallway, diverting everyone’s attention to the door swinging open and revealing a newcomer to the proceedings – lounging against the door jamb, dressed as always in leather and black denim, with his familiar smirk in place.

“Hello, Peaches.”


	18. Even at the Turning of the Tide

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 16 – Even at the Turning of the Tide**

_Hello, Peaches._

Angel paled visibly. It seemed that bluffing and brazening his way through just went out the window as options. Once again the proverbial bad penny had turned up at his doorstep.

~ _That’s my vampire!_ ~ Buffy grinned. “Always did like to make an entrance,” she murmured, thinking back to a certain Parent’s Night.

They never listened to her, Harmony pouted. It would serve them right if Blondie Bear took everyone apart.

Wes stared as if he’d spotted the Golden Fleece.

Lorne and Gunn immediately leapt to Spike’s side for support just before his legs gave way. 

“Gorgeous entrance, my little drama Queen.” Lorne whispered. “Can you stand any longer or do you need to put your tush down?”

Spike grimaced. “Barely holding on, mate. Sittin’ sounds like a wonderful idea. Lyin’ down would be better, but…”

Buffy shoved her way through the chairs blocking her path to Spike the moment she saw the injured vampire’s legs start to buckle. She’d argued against this foolhardy stunt but Spike had insisted on showing up. Said he wanted to ‘shove his survival in the twat’s face’ and made the trip to Wolfram & Hart out of sheer stubbornness. 

She reached Spike just as he’d been gentled onto one of the sofas towards the back of the office. “You know you shouldn’t be out of bed, don’t you?” Buffy ran her fingers over the vampire’s shoulder. “Are you going to be alright or do you need to go back to Lorne’s place? I think you made your point just by showing up.”

“M’fine, pet. Leastwise for the moment. Go do your vengeful bitch thing. M’not missin’ a bleedin’ moment of it.”

Wes watched them guardedly. What he knew of Spike had been gleaned from Watchers’ Journals and Angel’s descriptions. He was unsure if Spike was baiting them all into believing he was weak; all the better to strike at them when their guard was down. However, noticing the solicitous way the Slayer was acting, and the ease with which both Lorne and Gunn interacted with the vampire, he relaxed enough to allow some common decency to surface.

Noting Spike’s weakened state, he pulled Harmony aside. “Do make yourself useful, dear, and heat up a thermos of the house special for our guest.”

The vampiress simply nodded, and left without an argument.

Unable to see through the small knot of people that had gathered around Spike, Angel became enraged, smashing his fists down on the hardwood desk with enough force to break it in two, driving splinters deep into the meat of his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you people, fawning all over that sycophant like he matters to any of you? Buffy, really – is this what turns you on – danger boy? I mean he tried to kill you and all your little Scoobies for years.” Angel sneered, baring teeth that were almost fangs. “I could have stayed Angelus if that’s all it takes to keep you satisfied.”

Spike kept his eyes on the Slayer and smirked, as she performed a classic Buffy maneuver – she rolled her eyes. ~ _Elegantly put, luv._ ~

Harmony quietly let herself back into the room, handing the thermos of warmed otter blood to Spike. 

“Thanks, pet,” he said, grateful for the warmth and strength it provided as he downed most of the viscous fluid in one swallow.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Turning to Buffy, the nervous vampiress said, “I didn’t have anything to do with this, I swear. I would _never_ …I mean, killing? Yeah – vampire. But what _he_ did was wrong.”

In a move that surprised them both, Buffy grabbed Harmony into a quick hug. “If I thought for one moment that you had something to do with this,” she said, “I’d stake you myself. But Spike can use all the support he can get, and I do know that you cared for him.”

Wesley walked over to the destroyed desk, intent on calming things down before the situation got even more out of hand. He wasn’t happy with the things his friend had done, or the attitude he was displaying – Wes just couldn’t bring himself to summarily abandon Angel after all their years together.

The irate vampire placed his hands on Wes’ shoulders… and pushed him to the floor without a word of apology for the rough treatment, acting more like he wasn’t there at all.

He turned his full, fiery attention to Spike, getting as close as Buffy would let him. “Just like a fucking cockroach, aren’t you Spike? Church organs, fire, Slayers… even dumping you from the Order... nothing gets rid of you. You’re still crawling around no matter how often you’re stepped on.”

“And that makes you what, you ponce - a dung beetle? All full of shite? Couldn't best me fists and fangs, could you, you bastard?” Spike fumed, wishing he could stand up and face his… this… enemy on a more level battleground. Being seated – looking up – was too damned reminiscent of all those months in a bloody wheelchair, listening to Angelus pontificate as he stole Spike’s life away piece by piece.

“Had to shoot me in the back to take me out. Why the fuck didn't you just drain me or dust me if you hated me so much? I could understand that. We’re vampires – s’what we do.”

Angel lunged past Buffy, knocking the almost empty thermos of blood out of Spike’s hands. “Didn't want to dirty my hands with the likes of you, boy. I was sure you'd be dust by the end of the week, and out of my hair one way or the other.” 

Gunn rushed forward, shoving the elder vampire away from Spike. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? First you do the dirty and sell out your kin, knowin’ he’s got a soul same as you. Now you’re trying to attack the dude for sittin’ on a damned sofa.

“Tell me, Angel. Tell all of us. What can we expect from you now? If we piss you off – you gonna sell us out, too?” Gunn shook his head. “True colors, man. Fucking vampire. Never should have trusted you.”

Angel remained silent, glowering.

Gunn turned to Spike. “Look, dude. I don’t know you enough to even think about trusting you, and if you ever flash a fang at me I’ll dust you so fast you won’t see it comin.’ But you were wronged, big time – and I’m all for giving you _one_ chance. We cool?”

Spike grinned. “Knowin’ where I stand with a bloke s’a good start.”

Buffy could barely contain her anger. The unprovoked attack on Spike had her delving deep into Mama Bear territory. Grabbing Angel by the shirt, she flung him back towards his desk.

“You get off that chair again, and I’ll find Wes’ crossbow,” she threatened. “What happened to the compassion in you? I thought your soul guided you to be decent and good. Are you sure you still have the bloody thing?"

Her unconscious usage of Spike’s favorite word made Angel’s fangs itch. “You know I do, Buff.” Smooth as silk he sounded, despite his rage, unruffled by everyone’s stares. “Soul's all anchored... it was part of the reason why I agreed to work here in the first place. Wolfram & Hart agreed to anchor my soul.” With a wicked grin, he asked, “Did I go out and kill anyone after we fucked?”

“No, but apparently you attempted to before sleeping with me – when there wasn’t even a chance that your soul was lost.”

Angel’s frustration began to rear its ugly head once more. “You know, I really don't get what you're so upset about. This was vampire business, settled under demon laws and practices.”

Why didn’t he see how wrong he was? Maybe the soul anchoring spell was faulty. Buffy wouldn’t put it past the Evil Empire to screw it up somehow, on purpose. She tried to explain, slowly – like one would to a small, really stupid child.

“No, Angel. It wasn't settled at all. Spike was right - vampire business is settled with fists, fangs or   
stakes. You _’settled’_ it like a coward. When his back was turned you drugged him and dumped him on someone else’s doorstep.”

Buffy felt ill. The more she thought about just what he’d done, the more nauseous she became. “How dare you call yourself a champion? How can you justify what you did? Spike was never yours to sell off like chattel.”

Obviously there was no answer that would satisfy her, so Angel just muttered, “He was family – I was his Sire. I had rights where his disposition was involved and I sold ‘em. Not having to look into his damned face or hear his bullshit gave me peace and quiet. Simple. Done.”

Buffy stared at him for a moment, still not believing the words coming out of his mouth. How deeply he believed what he was saying. The set of Angel’s shoulders told her he’d given up trying to justify his actions – that they were just that… _his_ , and he’d make no further explanations.

She had an epiphany as she recalled another time Angel had been so resigned to his own actions. ~ _Look, I'm weak. I've never been anything else. It's not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy. It's the man._ ~ It made things all so simple.

Spike was pretty much William… a good, decent man… without the moment-to-moment sense of insecurity and the bravado forged by time and circumstances. He was an elegant amalgam of evil since dampened, gentility and passion. No split personality for him – all that he had been and all that he will be was claimed and accepted.

And oh, how it all rammed home now! What had been niggling at her since she first arrived. The differences between the Angel she knew and what he’d become. What couldn’t be filtered through her maturity and experiences. This Angel was much more like Spike – more of a whole person. Only the person underneath it all was a self-serving, petty and vindictive man. Merge him with the demon and it was easy to see how he could justify the things he’d done.

She shook her head. “I knew that this whole Wolfram & Hart thing was a disaster from the start. You were a better vampire than you were a man, Liam. I can hardly see the Angel I used to know.” She turned her back on Angel, and sat down next to Spike on the sofa, deeply affected by what had come to light.

“Well, Wonder Midget might be done, but I ain’t. Lorne and me found out where you sold Spike… what they did to him there. You knew damned well you didn’t expect him to survive long. Question is… did you know what they were gonna do?”

“Yes, Angel.” Wesley was deeply curious as to how much of Spike’s demise had been plotted. “Do tell us what Dante’s had to offer that made you turn to them as a disposal-all for your unwanted family.”

“Dante’s had a rep for holding demon cock-fights. The strong triumph over the weak. Best of all, if one is targeted, they keep on fighting until he’s gone.” Angel smirked. “The idiot was so proud of his reputation, I knew it would be the very thing to ensure his swift demise. A second souled vampire, well known for betraying his own kind and working wth the Slayer? They were gonna line up for miles to be the one to take him out.”

A small scuffle broke out in the back of the room, followed by a muffled “Bloody tosser.” It took both Buffy and Lorne to restrain the furious vampire from attempting to fight a battle he was only going to lose.

Wesley gasped. He was utterly appalled that Angel – _Angel_ \- could be so cold blooded as to send Spike out to be murdered for no other reason than he hadn’t wanted to sully his own hands.

“You think that’s something, English?” Gunn was incensed. Something so simple as a fight to the death scenario? Nuh uh – they were gonna know the truth. “Demon fighting is only a secondary offering at Dante’s. Their spotlight attraction is fronting for a demon whorehouse. Forced prostitution.”

Spike shut his eyes tightly. He had known the revelations weren’t going to be pleasant, but it was affecting him far more than he’d ever admit. His recollections were generally hazy, but this was bringing things much closer to the surface. The urge to run was mounting in his veins, and he was just this close to begging someone to get him the hell out of there.

Then Buffy smiled at him. And Lorne rubbed his shoulders in a show of support. He could do this. He _would_ do this. He was not ashamed. He was bloody well ticked off, and would see it through to the end.

“Oh, come on now, Charles,” Angel countered. “How bad can it be? Spike’s been gone for a year now, and he looks just fine – well, except for the whole not walking thing.”

“Fine, you bloody tosser?” Spike grated out between clenched teeth. “I've been free and clear of that soddin' place for almost five days - been gluttin’ on the best human money can buy... and I still can't stand for more'n a moment, and can't walk. I'm bruised and broken in places you'll never see again. This looks like fine to you?”

He struggled to stand, thankful for the added strength he’d gained from the blood. Assisted by Lorne, since it was obvious he was going to get up with or without the help, he shucked off his duster, pulling his shirt off over his head.

Spike trembled as he shook off Lorne's supportive hands. His torso was still deeply bruised, ugly patches of olive and plum making his pale skin look dirty. Black jeans slung low on slender hips, the inflamed scar from his navel piercing was striking. “Here’s fine for you,” he murmured. 

All too soon, his knees buckled; his reserves gone. Gunn scooped him up from the floor, looking to Buffy and Lorne for guidance.

“I think our little party’s at an end, buckaroos. Looks like the kid’s reached his limits. I’ll meet you at the car, Charles. Just a little bit of unfinished business here.”

At the door, Spike asked the man to wait. Turning back towards Angel, he said. “You know, over the years I’d grown to hate you with a deep and abiding passion, as you did me. I was always _yours_ to hate… until now. You set me free, and I publicly acknowledge that fact.”

As they exit the office, Lorne walked up to Angel’s desk, planting his hands on the broken halves. “You're no champion, bucko. You're a vindictive, petty, jealous bastard who hasn't grown a whit from the useless Irish sot he was as a mortal. I quit.

“And Angelcakes? Just so I make myself perfectly clear on this?” Lorne leaned in close to the elder vampire – and spat. 

Harmony ran after the green-skinned demon, silently pleading with her eyes. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and they headed towards the car.

Angel sighed as he watched them all go, one by one – listening to their condemnation. Only Wes and Buffy remained.

Wes cleared his throat quietly. “I’m going home, Angel. I need some time and distance on this whole matter.” With a final glance at a once trusted friend, Wes said, “I’ll call you when and if I decide to come back.”

Angel watched him go, then turned to glare at Buffy. “Happy now, Buffy? You came into town to start a new life with me, and ended up decimating mine.” Viciously, he started picking the splinters out of his hands. “So, any parting words of wisdom for me, Buff? Probably your last chance, since I doubt we’ll be traveling in the same social circles.”

Buffy shook her head, sadly. “I wish one day you’d understand how wrong your actions were, Angel. You were right all along – it was the man that needed killing after all.” And closed the door on another chapter in her life.


	19. In My Mind's Eye

**Hell Is In the Details – Interlude – In My Mind’s Eye**

**Buffy**

Oh God, it’s over. She’s really done it. Ended her teenaged fantasy of perfect romance once and for all. Turns out the handsome prince is really a toad.

Buffy sits on the bed, watching over an exhausted Spike as he slumbers, her hand gently stroking his sleep-lax face. So young and peaceful in repose, it’s easy to forget Spike’s century of murder and mayhem, she reminds herself.

Is he her future? One way or another, they’re tied together. They break and bleed for each other. She’s risked life and limb to rescue him – he’s died for her.

Come what may.

 

**Spike**

Exhaustion. Overwhelming inexorable bone-deep mind numbing fatigue keep his eyes closed. Spike knows she’s sitting with him. Her scent and her touch are sense memory for him. Just knowing she’s there allows him to relax.

His magnificent bitch Queen. Spike just knows he’s smiling. If she asks for a limb, he’ll willingly hand her the blade… because _he knows_ , finally. In word and in deed she’s proven her feelings today. He matters – _to her_.

When he wakes up, he’ll thank her for putting him first. Gunn, Lorne, _Harmony_ \- supportive friends – novel for him. He could get used to this.

 

**Lorne**

He’s a lover, not a fighter. His motto since Pylea. So pray tell, how did he end up with two vampires, a Slayer and a street thug cum magically enhanced lawyer in his home?

Slayer and Vampire – an old tale, with a re-cast male lead. All the makings of a smash hit. Vampy little secretary. Ah well, he can always use an assistant no matter what he does next. Gunn? He’ll stay or go as he sees fit. No worries there.

They saved a soul and a life, but his heart breaks as it sings.

Busted trust and lost friendship.

 

**Harmony**

Oh God! What did she do? Is she nuts? Where the hell is she going to find another office job that operates on vampire time? And there’s the issue of her apartment and finding a source for blood and keeping up with the latest fashions… what’s a single vampiress to do?

Even without a soul, Harmony knew she did the right thing. She’s always been Sireless. Making her way in the world without help has been more than difficult. But if a Sire could do what Angel did to her Blondie Bear… maybe she’s been the lucky one all along.

 

**Gunn**

Man, why does it always boil down to taking sides? Bloods and Cryps, humans and vamps… Rodney King had the right of it. Why can’t they all just get along?

He’s so damned tired of fighting. Thought the law was the way out, finally. Yeah, demons for clients, but he was dealin.’ The law was resolute, until he pushed at it. Wasn’t bloody until Angel made it so.

He’ll never look at it in the same way again.

Not since Spike. To see him so trashed by the letter of the law. Vampire law. Bastards were as devious as humans.

 

**Wes**

Wes has a headache no mere analgesic will banish. How does one cope with finding out that the vampire he’s trusted with his life for more than five years has baldly lied about events from the past year?

It’s not the issue of Spike, per se. He doesn’t know him on a personal level. But he does… did know Angel – or so he thought. Side by side, fighting the good fight, even in the belly of the beast.

To be capable of murder by disassociation even with his soul and lying about it? How can he trust in Angel again?

 

**Fred**

Fred’s heard of the ruckus in Angel’s office over lunch in the Wolfram & Hart cafeteria. So much hostility and venom, she decided discretion was the better part of valor and tucked tail, hiding in her lab.

So confusing. Angel’s old girlfriend now has a new boyfriend, who was also a vampire who was once part of Angel’s family but who’s since been sold like an animal to the slaughter.

Spike had survived, just like she did in Pylea. Only met him once, for a few brief moments last year, but she tips her hat to him for his rescue.

 

**Angel**

Loss and betrayal rival an edged blade in their ability to cause pain, and awareness is a double edged sword. Angelus wielded these tools like a master.

Images of William laid out before him – held fast by chains and cuffs, hole torn and dripping with his Sire’s spendings. No hope of comfort. No desire for rescue. “Yours,” he says. “Always yours, you bastard.”

Held in Gunn’s arms – “You set me free – my own, now!”

Angel awakens with a scream, muffled by the fangs embedded in his lower lip.

And he wonders if he might have gone too far, after all.

 

**Anya**

Nobody knows she’s still around; still in existence. D’Hoffryn rescued her spirit from the Hellmouth just as her mortal body was pierced by the Turok-han’s blade. Back in the vengeance game with a… well… vengeance.

She’s happy now. No ties to the pathetic band of mortal children she’d been attached at the hip to. Xander will move on – maybe find himself a good man for a change. Willow, she’ll find her own way. 

She hears a pained cry for justice… from Buffy? Against… Angel? Oh my God! Poor Spike. Hmph – about time she admitted her feelings for him.

Wish granted!


	20. Thereby Hangs a Tale

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 17 – Thereby Hangs A Tale**

Anya had granted Buffy’s wish of Justice for Spike. Fine. The problem was going to be… the execution of the wish. This particular vampire was a unique case and it was going to be a royal pain in the ass to arrange. The hoops she’d have to jump through to set this up… and the dangers.

And as for the dangers it presented to Spike… Hoo Boy, Buffy was not going to be a happy camper when she found out about the risk to Spike.

It was the specific wording of her wish that was the source of all the trouble. Buffy had said:

_“I wish one day you’d understand how wrong your actions were, Angel.”_

The problem? Everything Angel had done was proper according to demon laws. It’s where he sold him and for what end that was the subjective sticky part – the reason she was called.

So the question became how to reconcile both the legality and the morality – well, such as could be considered moral in the eyes of both Slayers and squabbling familial vampires.

Angel would be judged and punished according to the whims of the Tribunal judges.

Eventually.

The part Buffy was going to go ballistic over was that Spike would be judged, first. And, being Orderless – with nobody to speak on his behalf, or guarantee his future behavior – he could be summarily executed at the discretion of the Tribunal if found to be unworthy in the eyes of the Court.

Which didn’t exactly satisfy the Justice wish she’d made in the first place, and would probably entitle her to a second wish, which couldn’t bring back a yet again dusted Spike, which would equal a highly pissed off Slayer.

Oh poo! Some days it really didn’t pay to get out of bed.

There had to be something she could do to help the Slayer. For her to lose Spike at this stage of the game went against Anya’s romantic nature. Besides, between the two of them, Buffy and Spike had already died four times. Living happily ever after would be the best form of revenge against Angel.

The trick would be getting Spike through the Tribunal in one undusty piece.

Anya shook her head. Only a fucked up demonic legal system would have the victim on trial for his life, while the perpetrator would be let off the hook with a simple punishment. Determined to make things right, she teleported to the Tribunal’s home dimension, in the hopes of pleading clemency for Spike in advance.

~*~

Her arrival at Arashm’har left her shaken. She had tried to explain the extraordinary circumstances of William the Bloody. That he had been the wronged party and was not in need of judgement, but the Tribunal would not be swayed.

They had informed her that their system had been in place for millennia, and it would take more than a pretty little vengeance demon to shake things up. Spike would stand trial first, to be deemed worthy or not of seeking judgement against his erstwhile Sire. His execution would be swift and relatively painless if it came to that conclusion.

At least they called her pretty.

Doomed. Anya knew she should have ignored that cry for Justice from Buffy. Anything, _anything_ relating to the Scoobies was bound to cause grief and heartache and was certainly going to ruin her standing with D’Hoffryn.

And her record had been really spotless since her return to the vengeance game.

As humble as her nature would allow, Anya approached the throne.

“Ahhhh, my lovely Anyanka.” The elder demon was in a good mood, even though he already knew the reasons for his girl’s appearance. “Tell me, my dear… to what do I owe this honor?”

“Can it, D’Hoffryn. That coy act hasn’t worked with me in centuries. I know that you know just why I’m here, so let’s get down to brass tacks already. You know there isn’t much time.”

He smiled – which did nothing to dispel the “no matter which way you go with this, you’re so fucked” vibe he gave off. “Good enough. You’re here to seek dispensation from granting this latest wish.” He sighed, shaking his head. “What _is_ it with that lot of humanity that keeps you so tied to them? It never works out well for you in the end.”

Anya thought long and hard before she answered. “It’s true. They never really accepted me into their group. Ex-demon and all with my history, I suppose I should be grateful Buffy never attempted to slay me while I was human.” ~ _And so totally glossing right over that whole frat-boy incident_ ~

“It’s just… well, the only one who ever showed me real kindness, was Spike. Always on the periphery – never allowed in… and his body count was way less than mine. But as a soulless vampire, he held me when I was hurting, and made me feel like things weren’t all my fault. And the sex? Hell, you can’t beat a vampire when it comes to zero refractory time.”

She waved her hand in the air, dismissing that particular line of conversation. “Oh, c’mon, Hoffy! I’m not trying to wiggle out of anything. I owe Spike. A lot, if I can help it. And if Buffy’s actually going to champion his cause – I don’t want her wish for justice to leave her without the man she’s fighting for!”

This time D’Hoffryn’s smile was genuine, soft for his favorite vengeance demon. “You’re a remarkable girl, Anyanka. To care enough for a vampire and his erstwhile nemesis to risk my wrath again. I’ll tell you what, you go set up the vampires’ trial. The Cahair Binse is not known for their patience and I’m sure the Slayer needs to be forewarned. She has an annoying little tendency of slaying first, asking questions later and I believe she’s rather on edge at the moment.” 

~*~

It had been a beautiful day. Blue sky, white fluffy clouds, green grass and yellow sun. Almost like living in a young child’s crayon drawing. Buffy was putting away the remnants of their picnic lunch, when she frowned. It wasn’t like him not to be there with her. He always stayed to do the cleanup.

Buffy looked up as a shadow fell across the blanket. “Hey, Anya. I guess that death thing didn't work out real well for you, either. Come sit with me,” she said, patting the pink blanket. “He’s not here for some reason. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”

“Death is overrated, you know.” Anya looked up at the gathering clouds. “And he needs tending to. Things go all willy-nilly without proper attention.”

“So,” Buffy sighed, “who brought you back? Was it Xander? I know he missed you.”

“I heard you had a bit of a vampire problem." Anya’s vengeance demon mask was firmly in place when she looked down.

“Not so much – it’s all right now. Saved the guy – dumped the dream.”

Anya looked dismayed. “But you have no flowers. You got the guy without the flowers… just thorns. Everything pricks at you.”

“What? Pricks? No.. no.. nuh uh. No pricks. Nothing pricks.”

“Now, now, Buffy,” the vengeance demon gentled, patting the Slayer on her knee. “Don’t be crude. I just meant there’s no peace. You saved the guy but the villain went free.”

Both women looked towards the darkening sky, which was now a roiling mass of blackened storm clouds as the rain began to fall.

Buffy’s lip quivered. Storms frightened her, and they were targets for lightning sitting out in the middle of nowhere. “Can you stop the rain, Anya? I mean… the parade’s gonna be canceled.”

“Sorry, no can do.” She smiled, sadly. “Into each life… blah, blah, blahdy, blah, blah – you know the drill.

“I do know someone who can build you a shelter. It’s small, but it's dangerous. It can burn you instead of protecting you. But once you're safe inside... the rain will stop, and the flowers will bloom - without thorns.”

Buffy looked down at her hands. “But I'm all brown thumbs! Gardening and me are non-mixy things.”

“You have to try, Buffy - every garden needs a little rain - and you don't get blooms without hard work. Trust in yourself. Risk the danger.” Anya clasped the Slayer’s shaking hands in her own. “Gather other gardeners - they'll help you weed out the danger.”

“But I don't know anyone else who likes the flowers I do.”

“It doesn't matter. With their experience, anything will bloom.”

“I really don't know how to take care of a garden,” Buffy cried, tears mixing with the falling rain. “I'll kill all the flowers.”

Taking pity on the sobbing girl, Anya handed over a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. “Here, I'll give you the book - it'll be up to you to read it.”

A loud clap of thunder made Buffy jump, and she woke up screaming in her bed, sweat pouring from her body... a talisman clutched tightly in her hands.

_“Oh fuck!”_

~*~

“What was that? I don’t know if it’s the hour, or the long distance – but proper enunciation would go a long way in helping me understand you.”

Buffy gave Giles time to clean his glasses and put them back on his face. “I said – Angel is evil and all my plans have changed.”

“Yes, Buffy, I’m fairly sure I got that part… but I’m not senile, and I distinctly recall you saying something about Spike. Did your Slayer dream involve his death in any way?”

“I hope you’re sitting down, Giles,” she mumbled, “and have all the sharp and pointy things in another room. I said Spike is back. He popped back into Angel’s office a week after we left the country.”

“So, Spike’s back, you say? And he’s been back for a year, and Angel knew all about it?”

Buffy was amazed. He was being so calm about the revelation. “Yup, in unliving black and white.”

“Right, dear. And I’m the bloody Queen of England.”

 _Now that’s more like the reaction I expected._ “Giles, I swear it. Spike’s been back for a year and that bastard never saw fit to tell anyone.”

Giles practically snorted his derision. “Look, Buffy – if what you say is true, and I do mean _if_ it’s true… what makes you think he’d come flocking to you? He’s unchipped and free for the first time in nearly eight years… I’m sure he’d be off… “

“Oh, no! Don’t you dare go there again, Giles.” Gone was the nervous girl; Slayer to the fore. “Spike would have called me the moment he was back if he knew where I was. If he was capable of making a call. Don’t you dare belittle what he did for the world or for me.

“I thought you understood! We held a fucking memorial service for both Spike and Anya in England. You comforted me, told me at least he was at rest now.” Buffy was fuming. How dare he? “You really don’t have a bloody clue as to who or what Spike had become, or how much we relied on each other. You would have killed him and we all would be living in hell. Or dead!”

Lorne peeked his head into the room, the volume of Buffy’s yelling had reached Spike’s room, and both vampire and demon were concerned for the young woman.

“Hey, strudel. Everything all right? The walls upstairs were shaking in their supports, and we were getting worried you’d blow out your vocal chords.”

“You tell Spike I’m talking to Giles. I’ve had a Slayer dream, and if he ever gets his head out of his very British ass, there’s a whole lot of actual discussion that needs to take place. Spike’ll understand the reason for the yelling.” Before Lorne closed the door, Buffy said, “And I’m sorry for the Banshee level screams. I’ll try not to disturb anyone else.”

“No problem, sweet girl. Should I have Spike pick up the phone?”

Buffy’s eyes widened in horror, as she imagined the conversation between the two Brits. “God, no. I don’t think I could stand it right now.”

“It’s your call, bubbelah! Just bellow if you need me. I’m gonna go calm down cave vamp upstairs. I swear he’d fly down here to your rescue if he could.”

As soon as she was alone, Buffy lifted the receiver to her ear. “Giles, are you still there?”

“Well, either whoever else is in the house with you is delusional, or you were being truthful about Spike returning from the ashes. I-I’m sorry, Buffy. I know our opinions on Spike will never come to an accord, but the fact that he’s risen from the grave once again might have it’s bearings in prophesy.” Giles’ inherent Watcher had finally awakened. “Now that I am more fully alert, why don’t you tell me the full story of your visit to Los Angeles, William the Bloody’s return and your Slayer dream. Something tells me everything is tied up in one big Gordian knot.”


	21. Call to Judgment

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 18 – Call to Judgment**

Buffy knew she wasn’t being fair to anyone by refusing to go upstairs and explain. Lorne knew she was upset… hell, she was sure people heard her yelling in the next county… but Spike? He’d heard every word of her side of the ‘conversation’ and she wouldn’t put it past him to have heard some of Giles’ as well. Damned vampire hearing.

She could feel Spike’s energy vibrating throughout her body; the little niggle at the base of her neck and the slight cramp in pit of her stomach – the frequency uniquely attuned to _him_ as opposed to the garden variety vampire that let her know he was nearby.

 _Calm down, damnit!_ God, she so needed to kill something right now – take the edge off. Maybe go for a run… but not before going upstairs. Buffy collapsed into the recliner in Lorne’s office – grateful to be alone with her thoughts.

The rest of the conversation with her ex-Watcher was uneventful, in that there were no more raised voices or derogatory remarks. After faxing him a copy of the talisman, Buffy filled him in on the events of the past week, from feeling ‘off’ in Angel’s presence, to Lorne’s little surprise, to finding out the level of Angel’s deception and treachery – ending with the cryptic dream, starring Anya, of all people.

As convoluted as it all was – even she could see the connections shimmering like a spider’s web… Anya, with whom Spike had sought comfort in after she, herself had cut him loose that last time. Who had sought comfort in Spike after being left at the altar. Anya, who once pulled her aside after a particularly bitchy Scooby meeting and told her to fuck him until she was raw and stop pussyfooting around – that vampire refractory abilities were not something to be denied, and she so needed many orgasms to soften her disposition.

Buffy smiled softly to herself. Anya had really cared for them all in her own blunt way. She was the one who spotted Spike’s shiny new soul, when everyone else was oblivious. Anya actually looked at people and spoke her heart, much like Spike – and had been castigated for it – much like Spike.

Death holds no dominion – something that should have been embroidered on a t-shirt and handed out at every Scooby meeting. Was Anya really back from the beyond, or just in her dream? Did it actually matter? The talisman was the first time something had manifested itself after a dream – usually it was just all cryptic and vague.

Realizing it couldn’t be put off any longer Buffy clutched the talisman in her hands and went to face the music.

He was already yelling as she approached the door. “What the bleedin’ hell did that ponce say to you that had you screamin’ loud enough to wake the dead?” Spike’s eyes flashed glitter-bright flecks of gold amidst the blue.

“Oh, you know,” Buffy said, clambering onto the bed to sit opposite the very angry vampire, “same old, same old. Actually, his first reaction to finding out you were all phoenix-boy was to tell me he was Queen of England.”

Spike snorted. “Knew he was a dodgy old queen. So, what’s the deal with the dream? Heard you screamin’ from that hours ago. I wish…”

“Don’t you dare!” Buffy leant forward, clamping her hand over his mouth. “Gods, Spike… don’t say another word. No wishing whatsoever. The whole Slayer dream was brought to me by Anya, in vengeance mode.”

“Demon girl, huh? She an’ Harris ever get back together? Were workin’ rather hard on it, usin’ my cot as a trampoline before…” 

The look on Buffy’s face brought him up short. “Chit never made it out of the Hellmouth,” A soft statement of fact.

“Andrew said she was so brave – that she died saving his life.” She sighed, acknowledging once again that she couldn’t protect everyone. “I know you… cared for her. ~ _Awkward much?_ ~

“Luv, I cared for everyone by the end. Bloody hell, even the little boy and the whelp. And I swear I’ll drain you if you _ever_ tell him I said such a thing.”

“We don’t make threats about draining slay…” Buffy wasn’t angry – her response had been pretty much automatic. However… it made her think. “Spike, how are you feeling? Legs any better?”

Curious as to the direction Buffy’s conversation had taken, he humored her. Spike flexed his legs to the best of his ability, noting the slightest of improvements. “Well, pet, the legs don’t hurt much anymore. All that human’s been good for somethin.’ S’just I won’t be any good in a fight unless I can stand the bugger to death.”

Buffy brought the talisman into view, her brow wrinkling as she thought things out. “Does this look familiar to you?”

Spike turned the disc over and over in his hands, feeling distinctly uneasy the longer he held it. “Looks like a coat of arms, pet. An’ I can feel somethin’ pourin’ out of it – makes my fingers itch. Got some major mojo attached to it.”

“There was this whole garden/flower theme thingy going on in my dream… and I know I was afraid of killing the flowers. Anya gave me a book, and said it would help me, but I had to read it. I – I woke up with it in my hands.” Clearly worried, she said, “Spike, I’ve had lots of cryptic shit come up in my Slayer dreams before… but I’ve never had something actually manifest when I woke up.”

“Why you called Rupes, innit? An’ to tell him his favorite vampire’s back? I take it he weren’t extolling m’virtues, what with all the yellin’ an’ fussin’ you put up?”

She nodded. “I told him everything, once he calmed down. Angel, you, yesterday’s confrontation and the dream. And I faxed him a picture of the coat of arms thingy from Lorne’s little office downstairs. He promised to check it out. Even as far as contacting the Coven to see if there’s magicks involved. Just waiting for a call back. Do you think you’ll be able to control yourself for a conference call?”

Affronted, he turned the most innocent blue eyes her way. “M’not the one to cause trouble, luv. Leastwise, not these days. An’ if it concerned you, I’d bloody well do my best to keep things calm. I’d never put your safety at risk.”

Buffy smiled, knowing that for the truth before he’d spoken. “I know, Spike. It’s one of the few things I can count on.” She took a deep breath, knowing that what followed was likely to be met with an angry refusal. “We need to talk about your physical condition, and the fact that it’s taking so long for you to heal. I think I can help, if you’d agree.”

Head cocked slightly, eyebrow raised, Spike purred, “Mmmm, pet. Gonna give me a rub down? Make sure m’muscles get all that individual attention they crave?”

“Spike, cut it out. I’m serious.” Buffy’s smile belied her harsh words and tone of voice. “I have a feeling this talisman is the harbinger of something so not of the good. Important, but scary.”

“So’m I, pet. Wouldn’t hurt to get ‘em massaged. ‘Specially by someone who isn’t afraid to put her back into it. As for the talisman… it feels familiar – like it knows me. I don’t like it.”

Firming up her resolve, the Slayer cut to the heart of the matter. “That’s it, then. If we’re both weirded out by it, it doesn’t bode well. And I’m really unhappy that something big is coming up with you in not in top form. Human blood is helping you and it’s not working fast enough. Only thing I can come up with is a Buffy cocktail. You’re gonna have to drink me.”

“No! No way!”

“Don’t you understand, Spike? You have to get your strength back. It’s the only way I can think of, and I’m sure it’ll speed thing up. You need to get your legs back under you, now!”

“Have you lost _all_ your marbles, you silly cow? You think I’m goin’ to sink my fangs into you when I’m weak and not sure of my self control?”

Buffy stamped her foot on the ground in utter frustration. “What the fuck is wrong with you stupid vampires? Does my blood stink or something? I thought Slayer blood was supposed to be all yummy gotta have me some.”

Spike stared at her, incredulous. “You’ve jumped the tracks, pet. Must’ve if you think I don’t want to taste you.”

“Then what’s with the denial boy routine? I had to beat Angel until his demon took what I…”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, bringing them nose to nose, his demon to the fore. “Do not compare me to that plonker,” he growled. “To know that he drank from you fills me with a rage, luv. To know he almost killed you is what keeps you safe from me. I. am. not. him. I won’t hurt the girl – not anymore”

Buffy pulled back, looking deep into his amber eyes. _How odd_ , she thought. _so much devotion shining through that leonine face_. How had she ever mistaken him for an emotionless beast? She reached up, gently stroking his brow ridges, watching his emotions play across his face as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

A phone call jarred them both out of the moment. Lorne came upstairs. “Hey there, kiddies. Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a Mr. Giles is on the line. Says he’s got some important news for you both about your dream and talisman?”

Taking the receiver from Lorne, Buffy motioned for him to have a seat, then hit the hands free button. “I’ve put you on speaker phone, Giles. Lorne and Spike are listening, too. So, what’s the sitch with the talisman?”

“Yes, well good evening, all. We’ll start out with the talisman, shall we? It's medieval. A coat of arms, perhaps – to be presented when going before the _Cahair Binse_ , as they were known. Roughly translated that's…”

Spike interrupted. “Chair of judgment.”

“Quite right, Spike. Also known as The Tribunal. Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of ‘em. An ancient court to settle grievances.” He gasped, as realization struck. “Bloody hell. That explains the itchy feeling I get with the talisman. Don’t tell me they’re convening the Tribunal on my account?”

“Oooh, that would explain why Anya was in my dream. Someone must have made a wish for vengeance…” Buffy paused; trying to remember who the idiot was that might have voiced a wish out loud. ~ _Shit – raise hand; smack self about the head repeatedly. Idiot present and accounted for, Sir!_ ~ Um, guys? I’m pretty sure I figured out two things. One, Anya is more than likely alive and working as a vengeance demon again on some plane of existence, and two? I think I made the wish.”

The sound of Giles cleaning his glasses could be heard distinctly through the speaker.

“Buffy, haven’t you learned by now that wishing brings nothing but trouble? Could you possibly recall what you wished for? It would go far in explaining what we’re to expect in the very near future, if my informant is correct.”

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember her exact words as she left Angel’s office yesterday. “I think I said something to the effect of ‘I wish Angel would understand just how wrong what he did to Spike was.’ I mean, he was so nasty as I was leaving – telling me I’d ruined his life. He just didn’t understand why everyone was so upset at what he’d done.”

“Are you sure, dear, that you didn’t mention anyone else in your wish – that it was specifically aimed at Angel’s actions towards Spike?”

“Positive, Giles. I was sorta focused girl at the time.”

“Oh dear.”

“Oh balls.” Spike dropped his head into his hands, knowing for certain that his unlife was about to get dragged into the issue. “Watcher, you mind tellin’ me what’s got your knickers in a twist over the Slayer’s choice of words?”

“I’ve spoken with Wesley Windham-Pryce. He’d apparently left Wolfram & Hart temporarily over this whole issue, and was quite willing to help with the research. Angel’s appeared before the Tribunal before… as someone’s Champion. He’d inadvertently murdered the original choice, and ended up taking their place – winning his battle. The rub here is the Tribunal’s definition of justice is not as ours. There is usually a physical battle, and the survivor is deemed the winner. It seems as if the Tribunal is rather arbitrary in meting out justice. Life or death of an individual doesn't exactly matter – just that there is a victor.”

Lorne was agitated. “Are you telling me that Spike is going to be forced into combat against Angel? It’s signing his death warrant. Where’s the justice in that?”

“There are other forms of ‘combat,’ or competition as it were. In the event that a fair battle is not possible, their lives are taken into account. The ‘combatants’ are judged one against the other, and the one found wanting is usually executed on the spot.”

Buffy groaned, “What have I done?”

“S’alright, luv.” Spike reached out for her hand, entwining their fingers. “You’ve done nothing wrong. S’bout time the world learned that Spike’s a better vampire than Angel ever was. I’ll be fine,” he said, silently hoping he’d best Angel for the first time in comparison. He had the distinct feeling that Buffy would take his third death rather personally.

Giles cleared his throat. “Look, our knowledge of the Tribunal is metaphysical, at best. Outside of Angel’s previous experience, which I would suggest is moot due to different circumstances, we have no clue as to what will actually take place. What I do know for certain, is that the talisman is linked to the person the Tribunal is called for.”

“Which would explain why I get the tinglies when I hold the bloody thing.” Spike picked up the metal disc, feeling the magicks itch crawl through his fingers. Staring at it intently, he said “This time, it’s personal.”

At the incredulous stares from Lorne and Buffy, Spike said, “What? Second hunk of mystical junk comes my way – this one has its jaws set specifically for me.” The slight twinkle in his eyes gave away his awareness of the Spielberg reference.

“So, Rupes…,” Spike continued, “can you tell us when and where this whole judgment deal is goin’ down?”

Giles hesitated, no real facts to guide the way. “All that’s written is from the appearance of the talisman to the rising of the Tribunal; it’s no more than a day’s time. The minimal timing is unknown. I suggest going for a walk outside this evening, and they will rise at their whim.”

Buffy realized her dream was the final item on the agenda. “Giles, I’m guessing after your explanation of the Tribunal that the dream is pretty self explanatory. The whole ‘canceled parade due to rain’ translates into a difficult trial for Spike… which could possibly end with his third death.” She glanced at Spike, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“And the whole ‘gardening/brown thumb’ bit is me worried I’m gonna mess things all up, and again, Spike might die. I think I’m noticing a pattern here. This thing is big scary, they don’t play favorites, Spike gets judged against Angel and if he loses, they kill him.

I don’t have a clue as to what part I play in it all, but I’m scared to death I’m gonna fuck it all up and Spike will die.” Buffy rubbed at her temples; the headache forming hurting her eyes. “There has to be something I can do about this, Giles. Thanks for your help, and if you come across anything else, please call me. You said it yourself, time is of the essence.”

“I’ll do what I can, dear girl. Be careful.” Giles sighed, and almost as an after thought added, “And Spike, good luck,” before breaking the connection.

~*~

Lorne went to his own room, leaving the Slayer and the vampire slightly shaken. Both knew Spike faced a battle for his very unlife once again… this time the skirmishes had already been played out – it was just left for the judges to dissect and compare: Spike against Angel.

Buffy broke the silence first. “So, picking up from where we left off, Spike… you need to be able to do more than stand on your own two feet. You need to be able to walk. Time is closing in on us and we can’t be caught with our pants down.”

Oh, if that eyebrow could talk. Which it could, and Buffy tried so hard not to listen to what it was saying.

“I hate this, pet. I don’t want to hurt you. My demon needs so much, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop before taking too much.”

“Look at me, Spike. I’m no longer a little girl. My strength has increased over the years, and I’ve always been able to overpower you. Trust me, I’ll stop you before things go too far. Do you trust me?”

“Do I what?” The vampire was stunned. “Do I trust you? The question should always be: do you trust me?’ I’m the monster here, luv.”

Buffy looked deeply into his blue eyes, just a little bit heartbroken that after all he’d been through, he still considered himself to be an untrustworthy monster.

“I’ll say this once, slowly and clearly so even a retardo-vamp wouldn’t misunderstand my meaning. I trust you Spike… with my life. Now drink,” Buffy said, holding out her wrist.

Spike gathered her into his arms, pulling the petite blonde onto his lap. Raising her wrist to his lips, Spike pressed soft kisses in a line to the crook of her elbow, where he licked the crease once, twice… before dropping his human mask, and sliding his fangs ever so gently into the soft skin. Wrapping her bent arm around his face, he was surrounded by her scent, suckling gently; as close to heaven as he was ever going to get.

Smoothly retracting his fangs, Spike poked at the wounds with his tongue, pushing and prodding to encourage a little more blood flow, thoroughly enjoying the feel of flesh parting around his fangs and fresh from the source blood in his mouth. Freely given Slayer blood – his mind boggled.

He knew he could give in to sensation so easily. The warmth of her body against his, the delicate twitching of her thighs as she pressed down against his hardening length – the delicate ball peen hammer effect of her arousal filling his nostrils. Surely this was not the wisest of decisions either of them could have come up with.

And then she moaned.

A low, deep throated sound that shot straight through to his balls, causing his grip to tighten on her arm and around her waist. Spike bucked up against her, grinding his hardness into her bottom with a painfully delicious friction while she rode him as she had that first time, pushing down against him until he swore he could feel every fold and every pulse of her clit against him. Like going home again.

Buffy’s free hand played in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging and stroking with equal measure. She could feel the pressure of his suckling increase as the wounds began to close, knowing that he would refuse to bite her again to keep them open.

The bed rocked against the wall from the force of their movements; both of them so close… Spike felt his panic rising even as they came. Fear of looking into her eyes and seeing that god-awful hollowed out self-hatred he’d seen far too many times afterwards made him nuzzle Buffy’s neck then cling tightly to her, listening to her calming heartbeat; afraid of what he might see.

Buffy slowly recovered, basking in the afterglow of the bite and frottage. She’d fully anticipated getting off on the bite, and was sure it was one of the reasons Spike had been so hesitant to accept her offer. After all, both were unsure of where they stood with each other, considering last week Buffy thought Spike was dust, and Spike? Poor thing had been in no condition to think of anything.

Touching her lips to his head, Buffy whispered, “Spike… you don’t need to hide. I’m fine, and so are you. Look at me, please.”

Spike raised his head, blue eyes anxiously seeking hers for confirmation of what he heard in her tone. His relief was palpable. “Oh, what you do to me, delicious Slayer,” he crooned. “What you’ve gifted me with. I could…”

With that, he scooped Buffy up into his arms, and bolted from the bed, twirling her around in a mad and joyous dance.

Buffy grinned, ruffling the ecstatic vampire’s hair so that he resembled nothing less than a giddy five year old at six in the morning on Christmas day. “Guess I’ve finally done something right by you, Spike. All that lying down just was seriously giving me the wiggins.”

“Feels so bloody good, luv. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for givin’ me back to myself.”

Holding a pretend mic to her face, Buffy asked: “William the Bloody – you’ve just gotten your scrawny ass out of bed after slacking off for the past week. What are you going to do now?”

“Bloody well take the hottest shower I can!” Spike laughed, tossing Buffy on the bed and running into the bathroom.

~*~

Everyone converged in Lorne’s livingroom at ten o’clock that evening, figuring it would be best to present a united front to the Tribunal should they decide to show themselves. The briefing was just that… brief. The actual demands of this ‘trial’ were unknown, but while the risks to Spike were potentially fatal, the risks to those in attendance were unknown.

All heads turned when Spike and Buffy appeared at the top of the stairs. As Buffy descended in the normal fashion, Spike gracefully leapt over the banister in time to catch his Slayer’s hand as she stepped off the landing.

“Nice move, dude!” Gunn was impressed. The difference between the catlike grace of the vampire standing before him and the decimated shell he’d carried out of Dante’s less than a handful of days before was mind boggling.

Harmony remained quiet. Relief over Spike’s improved condition did not allay the stress of the past day weighing heavily on her mind.

“I think we need to motor, cats and kittens.” Lorne was overjoyed at the vampire’s renewed vigor, simply conveyed by a quick squeeze to Spike’s shoulder before continuing on. “This is gonna be big, and I don’t want to explain to the landlord why the house has been torn apart. Wes has his cell phone with him, and will meet us wherever we end up.”

One by one, they filed out of the house and into the night.

~*~

They walked – no destination in mind – silently moving away from well populated areas. As if it had been planned, they stopped in front of a chain link fence.

“You know this is as cliché as it gets, don’t you?” Buffy stood, hands on hips, facing a fenced in abandoned lot. “It’s all ‘ooooh, empty lot – wonder what’s gonna happen?’ written all over it.”

Lorne laughed. “I’ll take some of that action, sweetie. After all…”

A loud rumble filled the air as the ground began to shake. Suddenly, three stone thrones rose up from the ground behind the fence, occupied by mysteriously cloaked figures. A sonorous voice called out: “Who bears the token and calls forth the Tribunal?”

Before moving forward, Spike felt a warm press of lips against his cheek, and a whispered “Good luck, tiger. Just remember to keep your wits about you and your mouth shut unless asked a direct question.”

 _Anya?_ He gave Buffy one last look and moved towards the fence, placing the talisman on the ground.

A second figure calls out. “And where are the other parties involved in this dispute?”

The clomping of horses’ hooves turned the crowd’s attention to a strange sight. Two horses approached, each carrying a knight in full armor and a handcuffed prisoner; Angel on one horse, Pret on the other.

**“All parties are now present and accounted for. The Tribunal is now convened. William the Bloody, we call you before this Court to be judged for your past, present and possible future existence – to judge you worthy of the Justice the Slayer wished for you against the vampire once known as your Sire, Angelus of Aurelian Order.”**

The senior Judge stood, voice loud enough to rattle the chain link. **“William the Bloody, formerly of the Aurelian Order, spawn of Angelus, cast out by Angelus… who will speak for you? Is there one amongst you who will speak on behalf of this Orderless vampire?”**

“I will!”

Heads turned once more. Striding forward, fury blazing from her blue eyes, was Dawn Summers.


	22. All the World's a Stage

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 19 – All the World’s a Stage**

_I will!”_

Loud and strident, with all the defiance of an angry teenager well remembered by those who had watched her grow up – Dawn Summers burst upon the scene… with Rupert Giles, Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg trailing behind her.

While the others gathered around Buffy, Dawn took her place at Spike’s side in front of the Tribunal, and looking up at the imposing figures, she squared her shoulders.

“I’ll stand for him. What do you need from me?”

**“Who are you, young mortal, that you presume to speak on the behalf of this once powerful vampire?”**

“I am Dawn Summers, formerly pure mystical energy older than the ages and a key to dimensional portals, now a younger sister to _the_ Slayer, Buffy Summers.” She turned to Spike, blue eyes level with his own, and stroked his cheek in wonder – amazed that he was actually back amongst them. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “And adoring brat sister to Spike.”

As the three robed figures conferred with each other, Spike reached out, holding onto his Niblet’s shoulders and staring wordlessly into her eyes. Finding the love he never thought he’d see there again, he pulled her tightly to him, whispering, “We’ll talk later, pet… if I’m still here. I promise.”

“You leave us again, and I swear I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. I’m so sorry for…”

**Silence. We have decided to allow you to speak on behalf of the vampire you have called brother. Proceed.**

“Okay, so… obviously you’re looking for character witnesses, so I’ll keep talking and you just tell me if I’m going in the right direction, okay? The first time I met Spike was about 7 years ago. He was making a deal with Buffy, to take out Angelus… who was trying to suck the world into Hell by awakening Acathla.”

**A soulless demon preventing the demise of humans – going against the wishes of his Sire?**

“Yes, your Honor.” Dawn paused, and looked expectantly at the seated figures. When no further response was forthcoming, she continued.

“Then there was the summer that Buffy died. She jumped off a tower to seal a rift in dimensions that my ‘keyness’ opened when my blood was spilled. She saved my life, and the world, but left me with no family – just her friends. And Spike. Who had fallen in love with her.”

**A vampire in love with a Slayer? The same Slayer his Sire had professed to love? What did he do upon her death?**

Dawn’s body shook. Recalling this time in her life was never easy, and Spike had to hold her steady, whispering ‘It’s okay, pet’ and ‘Do the best you can, Niblet’ in her ear, attempting to control his own emotions as well.

“He stayed with me… moved into my house and watched over me when everyone else had to go back to work and school. He cooked for me, and made sure I went to school, and stayed up and held me when I cried for hours. Everyone else tried to move on, but Spike let me cry and usually cried with me. We missed her so much. He had promised her he would take care of me...”

Angel snorted in derision, contempt obvious on his face. “This is beyond ridiculous. You’re making him out to be Mary fuckin’ Poppins.”

 **Be quiet, Angelus!** The Judge thundered. **Your time for judgment will come. If you cannot keep quiet, we will have you gagged.**

It paused. **Go on, child. Did the vampire stay or leave after the death of the Slayer?**

“That’s just it. Everyone expected him to leave... they wanted him to leave. They told him he wasn’t needed anymore and that I’d be better off without him. But he wouldn’t leave. He fought against them for months until it was just us, mostly. Then he patrolled at night with them and alone after everyone went to bed, he…”

Once more, the judges whispered amongst themselves before addressing Dawn.

**To keep the facts straight, please confirm the following: William the Bloody, vampire of some renown, voluntarily kept company with humans, based solely on a promise made to a dead woman he cared for. Were his attentions returned?**

Dawn snorted. “Hardly. Most of the time Buffy couldn’t stand to be around him. None of the people here could.”

**The vampire stayed amongst humans – his natural food source – who hated him, and yet not only did he not attempt to kill them, but worked with them, killing his own kind? And when the object of his affections ceased to exist, he honored a verbal promise to take care of her remaining family?**

“Well, for years Spike had an electrical chip in his head that hurt him when he tried to hurt humans, and he used to hang around, hoping for a handout and bagged blood. Buffy wouldn’t stake him because she said he was harmless and just annoying… but he was strong. The money sitch didn’t last long – the gang stopped paying him after only a few months. Then he found out he could kill demons, but he still stayed and helped. Nobody liked him but me. Buffy came to appreciate his strength, and the fact that he would always watch her back. She could trust that, if nothing else. And she did… trust that. And trusted him with me and Mom, before she died – Mom died, I mean, and then just me. Oooh, and he’d been tortured by a HellGod, and he never gave up the information that would have given me away as the Key.”

**The cessation of killing humans was not due of his own volition, then, but caused by a man-made device. The vampire was forced to quit killing his natural food source, and chose to channel his desires into killing demons, instead – at first for remuneration and then for… pleasure.**

Dawn was frustrated. When stated like that, it put Spike in a really bad light. “Look, your Honor… Spike made so many choices for the good and right reasons even before he got his soul. And that was when nobody would give him the time of day. In the end, he saved the…”

**We have heard enough from you, child. _All_ of your words will receive equal weight in our judgment.**

Crestfallen, the teen tried to apologize as she turned to walk away. She hadn’t even been able to talk about how Spike had saved the world. Dawn hoped the others would fare better.

“S’all right, Niblet. Nothing said that wasn’t true. S’all been long done.” Spike sighed. “Time to pay the piper, I s’pose.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and swatted her behind. “Go on, now – off to big sis.”

Lorne clapped Spike gently on the shoulder before turning to face the Tribunal. “I am Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok clan, of Pylea. I haven’t known Spike for long, since he’s only been conscious for the past 3 days, but I do have several things to say.”

**Speak your piece, Pylean**

“I’ve only known Spike for less than a week, but I was there when he popped out of the amulet in Angel’s office. He was frightened and disoriented; apparently having died some weeks before in Sunnydale.

“Angel was furious from the moment he first saw him. For two days they did nothing but argue – about Spike’s being there, with an occasional fist-fight thrown in for good measure. They fought about money, a place to stay, the right to exist; family helping family and all that. 

“The next day things were so quiet and Angel was so peaceful, we asked what had happened. Angel told us all that Spike had decided to ‘do the smart thing’ and leave, since they weren’t getting along.”

**For two days, the vampire was argumentative and demanding and then gone from the premises. Do you have anything that bears bringing to light about your interaction with him?**

The Anagogic demon was nonplussed. “Don’t you want to hear about what we found out? What happened to Spike? How he was treated?

**The only thing we are interested in is your interaction with the vampire in question. What has happened to him is of _no_ concern.**

A chorus of indignant cries from Buffy, Dawn and Gunn turned the attention of the judges in their direction..

**If there are further disruptions, we will simply dust the vampire in question, thereby negating the need for trial and judgment. As you wished for Justice, it would be wise to adhere to our procedures. His disposition is of no consequence to us.**

Thoroughly chastened and deeply frustrated, Spike’s supporters bit back their outrage. This was not the way they envisioned the trial going. This was almost a condemnation of the very person they were trying to help. Angel smirking down from his high horse was not helpful. Buffy wanted nothing more than to take him down a peg or twenty. All she could do was pray he’d get his when and _if_ the time came.

**Last chance, Pylean. If you have nothing further to add…**

“No, no… I’m not done. You want character? I’ll show you character. I’ve been in this dimension for the past ten years, and have been around demons of all shapes and sizes. There is one universal truth – corner an injured demon, and he’ll lash out at you. The younger the demon, the less control, but even the old ones tend to lose it in the face of overwhelming pain and uncertainty. I’ve seen Angel tend the worst of his injuries alone, to avoid the temptations of flesh and blood so near his injured demon.

“But Spike… a whole different enchilada. He’d been in and out of consciousness for the better part of a year. He opened his eyes to me, not knowing me from Adam… or the army of assorted demons he’d been forced to face. In helping, I caused him more pain. Setting broken bones and cleansing wounds isn’t a walk in the park for anyone, but to a vampire with no controls in place, there’s usually no thought involved in ripping out the throat of the person inflicting pain. Sort of drain now, don’t bother with asking questions later, you know?.

“He thanked me. I sat there, hurting him, and he thanked me for being kind. He’s shown me nothing but gratitude – and loyalty and devotion towards those he cared for. His only request was not for revenge, but for the woman he’d fought beside for years… Buffy Summers, the Slayer.”

**We have heard enough. You are dismissed.**

A slight nod towards Spike, and Lorne was off to rejoin Buffy, waiting for him with open arms.

“Thanks, Lorne,” the petite blonde whispered. “At least you got a few words out in his defense. They certainly aren’t making it easy.”

“They sure aren’t.” Gunn straightened his shoulders, heading towards the fence and his position next to Spike. “Might as well put my two cents in.”

“Your honors.” he addressed the Tribunal, bowing his head in a show of respect. “My name is Charles Gunn, and I was with Lorne when we found out about Spike being sold into slavery, and when we rescued him from that demon den of iniquity known as Dante’s.”

**We warn you once, human. Confine your comments to your interaction with the vampire. Anything else has the potential to bring these proceedings to an irreversible conclusion.**

_Got it said out loud, anyway. What’s been heard can’t be unheard._ Sorry, your honor. I’ll make my statement brief. The fact that Spike managed to survive a year of captivity and mistreatment is a testament to his inner strength. The fact that his mind still functions amazes me. The capacity to reach out for help and to seek and offer comfort shows me a spirit that won’t be denied.” Gunn paused to catch his breath. “That more in line with what you were askin’ for?”

**It is what we were asking for… barely. You are now dismissed.**

“Stay strong, dude.” Gunn shook Spike’s hand. “Wish I could have done more.”

Willow looked around nervously. “Guess it’s my turn. I mean, someone who knows Spike for years should speak, so it might as well be me.” She gave one last look into Buffy’s imploring eyes, and hoped her testimony would do some good.

“Hey, Spike,” she said, taking his hand in hers for a moment. “Here goes everything.” Willow turned and addressed the Tribunal:

“Your honor, sirs, my name is Willow Rosenberg and I’ve known Spike for more than seven years now.”

**We know of you, witch. You are responsible for the over abundance of Slayers in this realm. There have been quite a few calls for justice against you – for changing the balance of power between humans and demons. We choose to ignore them… for now. Continue with your testimony**

Willow gulped. This wasn’t the way to set her at ease, no siree nuh uh. She barely resisted the urge to sink to her knees and gush apologies for releasing all the new Slayers’ powers. But somehow, she managed to say:

“Um, when I met Spike, he was trying to kill Buffy – the only Slayer back then. It was what he did, as I’m sure you’re aware of. Slayer of Slayers, and all that. A while later, he’d also kidnapped me, wanting me to make a love spell to get his old girlfriend back.”

She turned to Spike and mouthed ‘sorry.’ He simply shrugged his shoulders. As he’d said before, what was, was.

“Angel once told me – us – that Spike was worse than any other creature we’d ever faced. That once he starts something he doesn’t stop until everything in his path is dead. Obviously me and Giles and Xander and Buffy all put the lie to that tale, what with still being here all these years later and all.

“But Angel was right in a way, too. Spike was one determined person, for sure. I mean, yes… vampire – all scary and creepy to a bunch of kids like we were. All that life, or unlife experience made us feel rather foolish… until he got chipped. And then he needed us. He couldn’t hunt and feed and we took him in.”

**You mean he was crippled and sought shelter amongst his mortal enemies, and you treated him like a vicious dog. Kept him chained and half starved – only letting him off the leash when you needed some extra muscle. You see, Ms. Rosenberg – we see _all_ sides, equally. I gather there was a point you were trying to make, however?**

Willow looked thoroughly embarrassed. She’d known they hadn’t been very humane to Spike, and that some of them had been crueler than others… but the world had been a far more black and white place when they were younger.

All righty then – back to business. “Yeah, point – big one. Angel was very right in that Spike was one determined little vampire. In spite of how we treated him – which I admit was really shameful at times – he stayed, even getting a place nearby. He helped even after we stopped giving him money or blood. He was always there for Buffy, no matter how much she tried to make him leave.

“And then he decided he had fallen in love with her. Ouchie!” Willow looked around. Something ~ _or someone_ ~ had pinched her.

**Is there a problem, witch?**

She stuttered, “N-n-no, I think I just got bitten by a mosquito. A really big, nasty, mean mosquito, but I’m okay. Um, back to Spike, right. He fell in love with Buffy, and no matter what we tried to do to keep him away from her, he stayed. We bespelled the house with a disinvite, and he still stayed. He trailed her during patrols, helping out when she needed him. He took abuse from all of us, but he stayed.

“When she died, we were sure that he’d just fade away – we were so sure he was just vampirely obsessed. No soul means no love, right? It’s what we were taught. Vampires had no feelings, and we believed it. I mean, when Angel lost his soul he was the most hateful creature… all wanting to torture and frighten and kill.

“Spike with no soul stayed to keep watch over Dawnie, as he’d promised. He loved that little girl as if she were his own sister. Even if Buffy had never had anything to do with him, he would have stayed. He patrolled with us humans to keep us safe, and he patrolled alone so we could take an occasional night off and have a real life. Truthfully, I think he was seeking out some of the more nasty demons – sorta a suicide by inches kind of situation. Patching him up became almost a full time job.”

**Are you telling us you reached a grudging respect for the vampire after the Slayer’s demise?**

“It was selfish, mostly. He made things easier for everyone, and we sorta stopped screaming at him to go away. It’s not like we ever said thank you.” Willow favored Spike with a little lop-sided smile and another apology shimmering in her green eyes. 

“And then we brought Buffy back, and things went bad again. Oh, and I mean it was just us humans who did the resurrection spell. Me, mostly, being the witch and all – really arrogant, irresponsible, selfish witch at the time, who has long since learnt her lesson about messing with the forces of nature so I don’t need to be reminded of it again, as I’ll never forget.

“When Spike found out about the spell, and that we’d brought her back – he yelled at us all. Said there were always consequences to magicks that powerful. It’s not that he wasn’t happy about Buffy being alive again… it’s just that if something went wrong… well, it just wouldn’t have been good.”

**Most curious. A soulless demon babysits and cares for a group of humans, none of whom treated him with a modicum of respect. An unnatural creature respected the laws of nature, and the humans did not. A fascinating scenario, Ms. Rosenberg – one we will take into consideration. You are dismissed.**

Willow ran back to the group; her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She was so glad to be out of the spotlight. Buffy hugged her best friend tightly, whispering into her ear how she’d done a wonderful job bringing out some of Spike’s better character traits.

 **Watcher!** The three judges practically hissed as one as Giles made his way to testify.

Giles cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Yes, I am Rupert Giles, head of the new Watcher’s Council. My testimony is neither swift nor pretty. As a watcher, I have been trained to believe in the inherent evil of demons. Meeting Angel colored my perceptions and did nothing to make me believe other than what I had been taught. A vampire without a soul is evil, and incapable of feeling love and other higher emotions. No inherent goodness remained in an animated corpse.

“As an ensouled vampire, I found Angel to be fascinating, and we’d become close as companions in the nightly fight against evil in the Hellmouth. When he fell in love with Buffy, it wasn’t questioned – his soul meant he had the capacity to love and act accordingly.”

**And this relates to William the Bloody how, exactly? I did not think I would have to warn you that we are not interested in Angelus as this time.**

Giles removed his glasses, cleaning them as was his habit in times of stress. “That’s just it. Everything filters through Angel in relation to Spike. It is not something I am proud of, but I cannot change my past. None of us can.

“When Angel lost his soul, he reverted to Angelus. He terrorized the children, and he murdered the woman who might have become my wife. If you think I was willing to think kindly about another vampire again, you’d be sadly mistaken.

“Spike bore the brunt of this. Not that he didn’t deserve it in the beginning, what with constantly trying to kill us all. But he was different from Angelus. He actually struck a bargain with my Slayer to defeat Angelus, who was trying to loose Acathla into this dimension. Angelus had kidnapped and tortured me for hours, and Spike was partially responsible for both my rescue and the world not being swallowed into hell.

“There are many more incidents of which neither Spike nor I are proud of. Suffice it to say I’d not been willing to accept the changes in him without the soul, and unwilling to look past his history with it, for which I am deeply apologetic.”

**That is sufficient, Watcher. You are dismissed.**

Giles extended his hand to the stunned vampire. “Spike, I cannot say we’ll ever be the closest of companions, but if things work out well here, please get in touch with me. There are a lot of things I’d be most curious about discussing with you.”

Spike had been quiet for so long, he couldn’t help himself. “Even if I’m back at your Slayer’s side, Rupert? No longer an issue for you?”

Giles coughed a little, but said: “I’ll do my best not to pass out from a fit of the vapors if you two show up on my doorstep together. Good enough?”

“It’ll do for a start, mate.” Spike nodded in grudging respect. “Thanks.”

Xander strode over to the two men, intent on having his say. “Break it up, boys. Time for my close up.” Herding the older man back towards his friends, Xander addressed the Tribunal.

“My name is Xander Harris, and I can’t believe I’m here pretty much voluntarily to speak on behalf of Fangless, here.”

Willow let out a cry when she was lightly punched in the arm by one very upset Slayer. “Xander, that’s not helping!” exploded into his brain, as Willow’s mindspeak had lost none of it’s power.

“Sorry, your honors. It’s just an old habit. I’ll be as straight to the point as I can – I don’t like Spike, plain and simple. I was scared to pieces when Angel offered me up to him as a midnight snack, and he didn’t change my impression by kidnapping me and Willow and nearly killing me with blows to my head.” Xander paused, as if realizing that just sounded ‘off’ even to his own ears.

“Anyway, the point is I’m not impressed by his well muscled compact little body, nor his good looks, or even by the softer side of Babysitter!Spike. I’m fairly sure we’d hate each other even if he were human. So if I tell you that even I admit to the changes he’s gone through, it means something.

“I’ve seen him go from overly cocky predator to someone who gave himself up to a HellGoddess to protect the little sis of a woman who hated him. I’ve seen him bruised and bloodied time and time again defending me and my friends against other vampires and demons. He even stood up to all of us when we sorta mutinied against our fearless Slayer in Sunnydale’s last hours against the First and brought her back to us.

“And though I didn’t see it, myself, I’ve heard it many, many times – how Spike sacrificed his existence to make sure everyone left the Hellmouth and burned to ash, making the world safe for puppies and Christmas once more.

“Sorta puts us both on the same playing field, seeing as I once saved the world, even though it was being destroyed by my best friend at the time. And since we’re all so equal, I’ll say this here and now, in front of witnesses I’ll never be able lie to: I’m done. Done with the hatred and the past bringing up-age. From here on out, we start fresh. You cool with that, Junior?”

Spike nodded mutely. He didn’t remember being this shocked when Buffy and he brought down the house. After all, he knew she had been attracted to him – he could smell it half a mile away. But Harris? The sky was blue and the sun deadly, the earth spun, and Harris hated him.

Or not, as the larger man pulled him into a bear hug.

“I meant what I said, Spike. You make it out of this, and we’ll start clean. If you want. AA steps eight and nine: ‘Make a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all, and make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.’ See, even I can change.”

**You are dismissed, human. You have given us much to ponder.**

Spike had been so blown away by Xander’s testimony and about face attitude that he’d almost forgotten about the Tribunal. He was about to turn back to them, when he felt it. Felt… her. His stomach clenched, knowing that things were about to go ass over teakettle.

Buffy was preparing to step into place, thinking she’d be the last to speak on his behalf, when there was a soft rush of wind, startling them all, and she was brushed back by… Drusilla, who wafted forward with snake-graceful hands moving all the while.

“My stars told me of the fair Knight’s trials. I knew I picked the wisest and bravest knight in all the land – but he’s no longer mine. His heart and soul belong to others now, and he walks in worlds they’re just beginning to imagine.”

The insane vampiress kissed Spike on the cheek. “Goodbye, my once forever love. You have changed enough that I recognize you once again from London’s dirty streets. Be happy with your new family.”

Standing in front of the horse that Angel sat astride, the vampiress looked upwards, her mouth set in a tiny moue of disgust. “Bad Daddy,” she spat. “You’ve brought down all the cards on your head.” Not another word was spoken as she walked off into the shadows and vanished.

As the shock of seeing Spike’s ex-lover appear wore off, Buffy rushed to his side, ready to start her testimony, when the middle of the judges raised his hand and said:

**These proceedings are at an end. We have heard enough to base our decision upon. The trial for Justice wished for William the Bloody has been granted. The trial against Angelus of Aurelius has begun!**


	23. Shame the Devil

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 20 – Shame the Devil**

**_These proceedings are at an end. We have heard enough to make a decision. The trial for Justice wished for William the Bloody has been granted. The trial against Angelus of Aurelius has begun!_ **

But the sweetest words were yet to come:

**You may stand down, vampire. We shall recall you as it becomes necessary.**

Spike closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands in relief. Buffy grabbed him around the waist and hugged him for all she was worth. They had done it - made it to the actual trial.

**We require he who was as a human called Liam, as a vampire first Angelus, and now known as Angel to stand trial for his egregious behavior and treatment of his erstwhile childe, William the Bloody, now known as Spike. Approach the bench.**

All eyes turned to the steed carrying the knight and Angel. Unceremoniously, the knight shoved the still handcuffed vampire off the horse, in the direction of the Tribunal.

**Angel, you stand accused of discharging your claim of Sire’s Rights to Spike in a willful and malicious manner. We are curious as to _why_ you evoked the ancient and inexorable penalty against your childe.**

Angel stood, his lips thin and tightly pressed together in defiance. He didn’t think _’because’_ was going to go over very well in answer to their question. In fact, it no longer seemed like a really good answer to his own ears.

**Need we remind you, vampire, that you are facing judgment, and must answer all questions directed towards you? We shall rephrase the query, inasmuch as _why_ might have been too difficult for you. Please tell the court _what_ heinous crime the youngest Master Vampire the Aurelian Order had ever spawned committed to warrant removal from his Family and the Order like an incompetent fledgling.**

“I don’t feel the need to defend myself. What I did was totally within the rights of vampiric law and custom. The monster called Spike – that I created over a century ago when I was Angelus – he was responsible for the death of many thousands of innocents – a burden I carried on my soul. His death in the Hellmouth freed me. To find him suddenly standing in my office again, mouth running and attitude unrepentant made me livid.

“It wasn’t planned. We had been fighting for two days straight over his demands that I support him and coddle him and tell him where to find…” _Okay, best skip that tack._ “He was hounding me and baiting me with his ‘holier than thou’ attitude – telling me he was the superior vampire. No respect towards me as his Sire. _~“I thought we might be able to work things out between us, being family and all. No amount of your bitching can change that.”~_ Nothing was going to change between us, and it had to end.

“I figured that his reputation alone would do him in, so I just made access to him easier. I wasn’t looking to make a profit, just to get rid of the problem. Pret and Dante’s were supposed to take care of that for me. All legal and above board.”

**The issue before the court, Angelus, is _not_ the legality of your actions, but the morality. You are an ensouled vampire, as is your spawn. There were less severe options open to you at the time – you could have had Security bar him from your presence and premises. Simple solution to a simple problem.**

“Spike’s like a vicious little rat. Once he sinks his teeth into you, he won’t let go.” Gods, Angel knew the hole he was digging for himself was getting deeper and deeper, but there was no where else to go. Bluster was all he had on his side. “It had to be done.”

**This seems to be your modus operendi regarding family problems, vampire. I recall an incident regarding your own Sire, punishable by dusting if we follow vampiric Lore to the letter. You dusted Darla. However, it was in defense of the Slayer, so you were never called to task for the offence.**

**However, this was not the last of your treasonable acts committed with your soul in place. There was the incident of allowing your newly resurrected Sire/grandchilde and childe to kill off a roomful of lawyers, then attempting to burn both family members. These offences will weigh heavily in your judgment, along with your betrayal of the childe you removed from your order.**

Angel was incensed. “I thought this was a fair trial. I hear nothing but accusations and prejudgment. If you’ve already judged me guilty, why the pretence for the trial?”

**This is not a trial to judge your guilt or innocence. This is a trial to decide your punishment. This is a vengeance court. The Slayer wished for it, and it has been granted. Justice will be served and meted out in whatever form William the Bloody decides upon. He has earned that right.**

“No!” Angel protested, fear for his unlife becoming his overwhelming thought. Surely Spike would demand his final death. “It’s not right! I’ve devoted my souled existence to helping humanity – atonement for the evils I’d done as a murderous demon. The Powers That Be won’t allow their Champion to be put down by the likes of him.”

The bench demons conferred amongst themselves for a few moments, before the middle one spoke.

**How can you consider yourself to be a Champion of the people, when you cannot champion your own family? Unsouled, your spawn fought alongside the humans you abandoned on the Hellmouth. Of his own accord, William the Bloody regained his soul and continued to fight alongside those same humans to push back the First. He sacrificed his existence for the fate of all humanity.**

**And yet, when he resurrects in your presence, your first impulse is to have him murdered, knowing of his sacrifice from the Slayer, herself, who had mourned and honored his passing. You no longer hold sway with The Powers That Be. Your fate will be in our hands.**

Angel paled. This court held influence over the demon world. Hell, the Tribunal held influence over multiple dimensions. If he survived Spike’s ‘vengeance’ wish, Angel would find his unlife severely altered.

**We recall William the Bloody to the bench.**

The call for Spike to return to the Tribunal startled everyone. It seemed as if the blond vampire had just been excused; now they wanted him back again, and this time, he’d be standing up there with Angel.

**William, hereafter known as Spike, you stand before us as an Orderless vampire. Is there someone who will take up your claim?**

Spike stood , head bowed and silent. He might have won his ‘justice’ but he’d never again have a familial place.

Hearing no response, the Tribunal judge looked out at the assemblage. **Is there none here willing to take ownership of this vampire? To bring him into their family? To be responsible for his actions and his safety? Who will stand up for this Orderless creature?**

Buffy walked slowly and surely to Spike’s side. Taking a deep breath and praying she wasn’t screwing this up for the long run, the Slayer looked up at the Tribunal and began: “I stand for Spike, your Honor. I request the right to speak freely before agreeing to anything, however.”

**Your request is granted, Slayer. You may speak your piece.**

“Thank you. I have a question about the whole ownership thingy. I understand the Order. I’ve been overly familiar with its… vampires over the years. But my whole issue in seeking justice was for Spike’s freedom. I don’t believe anyone should own anyone. I think Spike’s more than earned the right to be his own vamp.”

Angel snorted, toeing the ground. Buffy’s mortal naiveté amused him.

Spike silently appealed to the Tribunal, who granted his unspoken request. He turned to Buffy, to try and explain just what was at stake for him.

“Pet, it’s a lovely thought. Freedom an’ such. It’s just not the way vampire society works. Order is important to the demon. It marks specific demons from the days of the Old Ones, when pure bloods roamed the world. An’ Family is as you can imagine – same’s human. A place where they have to take you in. Where there’s fuck all you can do that they won’t eventually forgive you for. Usually.

“I’ve been around for a long time, Buffy. Might have had no civil words with my Sire in over a century, but I never thought he’d cast me out at this point in our history. Angel, Spike, same room – fight. A given, and something I could hold onto.

“It’s not that I won’t survive being Orderless and without Family, just that it’s something both man and demon crave. To belong.” His expression was even more heartbreakingly eloquent than his words. “I’ll miss him… it, the connection… even now.”

And Buffy got it. She hadn’t the first time he’d tried to explain it to her – the other day at Lorne’s, when she wanted to go after Angel on his behalf – but she got it now. She made up her mind.

Facing the Tribunal once more, she said, “Your Honors, I’ve made my decision. I am willing to claim Spike as mine, Family.”

Spike grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. “You dozy girl! Do you have any idea of what you’re doing? The responsibility you’re taking on? The risk you’re putting yourself and Dawn in?”

Buffy raised her hand, gently stroking the vampire’s cheek, something she’d grown very fond of doing. The look in his eye – the gentleness, warmed her spirit. “I’ve asked you this before, Spike… do you trust me?”

“You know I do, luv,” he murmured.

“Then shut up and let me get on with this. Do you think they’re gonna…”

**We need your decision now, Slayer, to further the proceedings.**

“Sorry, your Honor,” she said. “As I said before, I am willing to claim Spike as my Family.”

**You are mortal, and unfamiliar with the demon hierarchy. We need to ascertain what level claim you are committing to. As the Slayer, you are known more for killing vampires than championing them. Is this to be a surrogate Sire/Alpha claim, a mating claim, or both?”**

_Oh shit! Mating claim?_ What in God’s name had she gotten herself into? Not that it didn’t have its appealing facets, but was that what they were to each other? They’d only just found each other again these past few days.

Spike was well and truly gobsmacked that Buffy hadn’t taken a runner at the mere mention of a mating claim. That she would consider him Family was impressive enough, but anything else? Bloody hell how the woman had grown up. He decided to take pity on her wibbling state.

“Buffy, luv… I can’t believe you’d do this for me. To even entertain the thought… you’ve bloody well floored me.” Spike was deadly serious when he spoke. “You realize if some demon clan or Order got it into their thick skulls that I’m trouble, they’d come after you an’ Bit? Don’t make me your pity case, Slayer. I’ll survive. Basically been Sireless all my unlife. Can do this for real. Keep you and yours safe.”

“Is one claim dependent on the other, or is there a time frame involved with a mating claim? I’ve got no problem with the Sire/Alpha claim. I’d prefer to be equal partners, but I’ll do it however it works for vampires, Spike. Whatever you need, I’ll be.” Buffy gulped. “As for the mating claim, can we back burner it for now? I think we need to get to know one another again. I’m not gonna promise it’ll happen at all. I – I can’t. But the other thing? For as long as I live, and as long as Dawn lives, and any other Summers. You belong to us.” She paused. “If they’ll allow it.”

**We accept your claim, Slayer. If a being dedicated to the eradication of most demonkind is willing to foster a vampire, we will not stand in your way.**

Motioning for Spike to step forward, the middle judge stood once again and proclaimed: **We accept the Slayer’s claim of Family for Spike, henceforth to be known as Spike, belonging to the Order of Slayers, member of the Family of Summers. So let it be known throughout all realms.**

“Oh, that’s just fucking rich.” Angel sneered; even handcuffed he tried to project an image of authority. “You think you can be a proper Sire, Buff? You don’t have the balls to beat obedience and loyalty into a childe. Especially this one. I give it less than a month before he pisses someone off and they come gunning for your family and friends.”

Hands on hips, Buffy rose to her full height. “You think you’re so damned smart, Angel? You think you have the answers to both demon and human complexities? You don’t have a frickin’ clue what love and loyalty are all about. And as for Family? You wouldn’t know it if it bit you on the ass. If you had an inkling, you never would have left me years ago.”

“You’re not a vampire, Buff. Demon bitch, perhaps, since the Slayer isn’t all human girl after all, right? It would explain your fondness for guys with bumpy foreheads and pointy teeth. Still, what do you know about vampire hierarchy? How will you deal with the first challenges that come your way when the new Big Bad comes to town – to take out the Slayer Sire? You think you’ve been a target before? You’ve all but stuck a neon sign on your ass and declared it open for business.”

“You’re a crude bastard, Angel,” Spike fumed. “Truth is, neither of us has to deal with you anymore, so shut the hell up, you bleedin’ tosser.”

**We have settled the issue of Order and Family for you, Spike. There remains the wish your now Sire made for Justice on your behalf. What form do you wish Justice to take?**

Spike closed his eyes. This was a perfect moment for him. He could simply choose to stake the bastard with his own two hands. The pleasure he would feel… would last all of two seconds, and destroy any peace between him and Buffy, and probably the soddin’ Powers That Be.

He could beat the bloody tar out of him… and Spike was fairly sure he’d have the blessing of a ringside audience. Amazing all the people who’d come through for him. Problem with beating Angel to a pulp was… what purpose would it serve? It wouldn’t give back the year that had been stolen from him, nor the pride he’d been forced to swallow along with everything else. Nothing would give Spike back what he’d lost.

The only thing he could do was move on. He had a new Sire and a new Family that would be recognized throughout the demon realm. Buffy stood up for him and made him _hers_. Inextricably tied to her. And as much as a mating claim would have thrilled him, he was more than sated with the gift of belonging. Loved all the more for being chosen.

So the question still remained. What to do about Angel. What could Spike get satisfaction from that wouldn’t go against his soul and his Sire’s wishes?

A thought occurred to him, and he nodded.

“If it please the Tribunal, I have made my choice of punishments.” With a nod from the judges, Spike explained: “For a long time, thoughts of dusting him or physical violence kept me going. It was a goal and a reward, if only I escaped. Now, I see it would be totally meaningless. Dust him and he’s gone – no good will come of that. Beat him and the tosser’ll heal.

“But… take ‘im down a few pegs, and maybe he’ll learn something. Dunno how it’s to be done – don’t rightly care, either. I’ll leave it in your hands. As long as he realizes the sun and the moon don’t wax and wane at his desire.”

Staring directly at Angel, the Spike said, “Two days ago, I was devastated by what you done to me. Now, I’m thinkin’ you gave me the greatest gift. And it wouldn’t bother me one whit if it chafed your willy to remember that _you_ gave me Buffy for the rest of her life, an’ I intend to make it as long as possible.”

**Your request is intriguing, vampire, and we must tell you we are surprised you did not opt for a more corporeal punishment. The path upon which you are set pleases us. You are officially dismissed from these proceedings. Do your new status proud.**

With a parting nod to the Tribunal, Spike and Buffy walked back towards their friends, and gave nary a glance back at Angel who stood rigid with the tension of his impending sentencing.

**Before we pronounce our judgment, we call the S’lugith to the bench.**

Receiving the same treatment as Angel, Pret was pushed off his horse and herded towards a spot in front of the Tribunal.

**Pret, owner and proprietor of Dante’s. Tell us about your acquisition of the vampire previously known as William the Bloody of Aurelius**

The S’lugith demon was nervous. Handcuffed, confronted with his business dealings and in a wide open space, Pret’s yellow streak was showing. If the Tribunal was going to take down Angelus, what the hell were they going to do to him?

Bluster not being his strong suit, he stammered and cowered before the judges.

“If it please your honors. I received a phone call from Angel one fine afternoon, tellin’ me he had heard of my establishment, and the entertainment we provided. Demon fights are a staple of Dante’s; get ‘em linin’ up ‘round the block most nights. Best thing we feature are paid gladiator style matches. Pick a demon and let him fight until he’s killed and then the new champion takes his place.

“Anyway, Angel said he needed to sell his Sire’s Rights to William the Bloody. Didn’t want anything for him. Took a single dollar bill to make sure the transaction was bona fide. Said he’d become a liability to the Order of Aurelius and figured I’d be happy to have him as a main attraction in the matches. He was right, too. Had ‘em lined up for almost a year.”

**You’re telling this court that for a year’s time, the vampire willingly fought demon after demon and defeated them all?**

“No, Sirs. Changed my plans after seeing the boy. Pretty thing like that had far better uses than being killed. I decided to keep him as my pet for awhile. When I got bored, he was whored out in Dante’s other most lucrative venture. We run a quality stable, but the reputation of a souled vampire that fought against his own kind at the beck and call of the Slayer? A guaranteed draw, and money in…”

**Enough! Did you not think there was something suspect about selling off not only a childe of your line, but your own childe for the sum of one dollar? Especially one as infamous as William the Bloody, childe of Angelus, the Scourge of Europe? Did you not think to question this transaction?**

“No questions. The childe was Angel’s, to dispose of as he pleased.” Pret nervously shifted from foot to foot, sensing the ruling coming down was not going to be pleasant.

**The actual transaction was legal, if suspect. The owning of pets is acceptable. Prostitution is not an issue unless it is forced. You kept a Master Vampire as your sex slave against his will and whored him out instead of staking him when you lost interest. Your mistreatment of property shows poor judgment, especially in relation to sentient species.**

**Our ruling is simple, and our sentence incontrovertible.** The three judges rose as one, lifting their arms in the air, chanting a single word: **_Incendiare!_**

Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by an enormous crack of thunder that pealed out into the night.

**Dante’s has been eliminated. Perhaps, in the future, you will take better care of your possessions, and be more wary of suspicious deals. You are dismissed.**

Pret’s handcuffs were released; he fled the scene as quickly as possible, grateful to have escaped with his life, if not his livelihood.

**Angel, we are now prepared to pass judgment based on the wishes of Spike, of the Order of Slayers. You have become a liability to the cause you were charged with fighting for.**

**To redress this issue, _we will remove your soul!_**


	24. For Ever and a Day

**Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 21 – For Ever and a Day**

**_Angel, we are now prepared to pass judgment based on the wishes of Spike, of the Order of Slayers. You have become a liability to the cause you were charged with fighting for._ **

**_To redress this issue, we will remove your soul!_ **

**By binding your soul to your demon, you have grown complacent and fat on the excesses available to you through Wolfram & Hart. You have developed an exaggerated sense of self worth and propriety.**

**You have lost sight of your mission and failed to maintain contact with the lowest elements of society. You no longer care.**

**We will remove your soul and its binding magicks, and return it via the original Calderash malediction. Until such time as the soul regains the lessons it’s lost and learns what humanity has to offer, it will remain unbound.**

**From this moment on, you are cast out from your position at Wolfram & Hart. The Senior Partners have been informed of our judgment against you and access to their resources has been terminated.**

**Your colleagues have already turned from your side. You will continue to aid the helpless alone, as you once were. We suggest you keep to the path set out before you. The consequences for straying are… severe.**

**You, Angel of Aurelius, will transport with us to our realm until such time as your soul is newly ensconced in your body.**

**Our business in this realm is concluded.**

With a loud earthshaking rumble, the Tribunal sank back into the earth from which it has arisen, the ground returning to its previous state, while Angel simply… vanished.

Willow was the first to break the silence. “Oh Goddess! Did you see that? I mean, look around – not a pebble out of place. And Angel went poof! Well, not *poof* poof, but they’re really going to remove his soul and curse him again. And, _hey!_ Sorta feeling proprietary here. I mean, I’ve already re-souled him twice, and…”

“That’s my Will.” Xander laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “When surprised – babble. Nice to see that some things don’t change. However,” he said, turning to Spike, “some do. I gotta say that you and Buffy make a mockery of the term ‘the second coming’.” 

“If we don’t want to try for another bout of ‘Who’s the Phoenix’,” said Lorne, pointing towards the lightening sky, “I think we need to head back to my place.”

Looking around like a mother hen searching for her chicks, the green-skinned demon realized someone was missing. “Has anyone seen Wesley since this little confab began? I was sure he’d be here.”

Giles looked distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t know Gunn or Lorne well, and the prospect of telling them about their friend unsettled him.

“Lorne, is it?” he asked, tapping the Anagogic demon on the shoulder. “I’ve been in touch with Wesley by phone. Quite frankly, he was too embarrassed by missing the signs of Angel’s deterioration, as it were, to face you all. Especially you, Spike.”

Removing his glasses in a time-worn gesture, Giles pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off a headache.

“In point of fact, Wesley is the reason we’re here, at all. It was he who found out the lengths the Tribunal would go to in meting out their brand of justice. That they would put you on trial first. And while the world knows I am not your staunchest supporter, I felt I ‘owed you one,’ to borrow a phrase from the children, for my inappropriate actions last year.”

“Oi, Victoria!” Spike’s eyes glittered in the moonlight; hard to tell with amusement or annoyance. “I’d say tryin’ to have me murdered in cold blood was more than inappropriate. But for this - tonight? I’d say we were bloody well even, mate. An’ thanks for coercin’ the kiddies into helping.”

Giles looked momentarily puzzled at Spike’s salutation, before remembering the reference. “Yes, good. Make fun of the silly Watcher who cracked one joke this year. And for your edification, nobody had to be coerced into speaking up for you. Seems as though coming back from the dead after saving the world carries bonus points with it

Gunn, Harmony and Lorne took the lead, talking amongst themselves as they walked back towards Lorne’s place. Buffy kept to the rear of the group, allowing Spike the rarest of things – interaction with the Scoobies as an equal participant. 

She watched Spike come to life as Dawn smacked the vampire on the shoulder, then hugged him – making all those little sister faces Buffy had come to recognize over the years; Spike smiled indulgently as Willow nattered on, hands waving about in emphasis of some point or another, but the sight that would stay with her forever was Xander and Spike both trying to lure Giles into a discussion about whether some mutant monster movie had based its demons on actual species.

Except for missing her mom, Buffy’s family was complete. Weird, and not entirely human – but complete.


	25. A Foregone Conclusion

**Hell Is In the Details – Epilogue – A Foregone Conclusion**

~Two Years Later~

A couple of hours spent trolling through some of Los Angeles’ sleazier back alleys and bars made Spike question the common sense of his search. He was on edge and longed to drown his nerves in a bottle – make that several bottles – of JD, but knew he had to remain sharp and focused.

Right.

This was useless, Spike thought. Like searching for a soddin’ needle in a haystack. Time to check out some fresh open spaces. Might not find the tosser, but at least he could leave the stench of the city behind for a while.

A half hour’s walk and the changing landscape found his spirits much improved. Surrounded by green grass, trees and the deep midnight blue of the nighttime sky, Spike took stock with his preternatural senses, reaching out for… and yeah, there it was – due north, not far from where he was.

Of course it worked both ways, so by the time he was within visual range, the dark figure slumped on the bench with his head in his hands spoke first.

“What do you want, Spike?” The elder vampire was quietly resigned, as if a confrontation were somehow inevitable.

“Lookin’ for you, Peaches.”

Angel sighed, looking up to face his erstwhile childe. “So what is this, Spike? You here to finally collect your pound of flesh?” His posture remained open; it was obvious that if the younger vampire were to attack, there would be no defense offered.

Spike wasn’t surprised by his attitude in the least. Brood boy was back in the house.

"Nah... have to watch my girlish figure these days. Slayer gets all pinchy if she sees love handles formin’." Taking a small breath to steady his nerves, Spike took a seat on the opposite end of the bench, staring up at the night sky. “Truth is, Buffy an’ me was wonderin’ how you were managing’.”

Angel snorted in disbelief. “How do you think? And why don’t smell a mating claim on you? You and Buffy aren’t the love match you thought?”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Spike replied calmly. “What we have, Peaches, is what works for us both at the moment. We live together; fighting and shagging as the occasion suits. Snoggin’s pretty much our favorite indoor sport. Outdoor sport too. But we’ve both agreed that bein’ mated ain’t on the immediate agenda for either of us.”

Angel sighed. It was all out of his control, anyway. Was never meant to be in his control.

“Back to my reason for bein’ here, then. How’s the soul settled in now? Not back to fur an’ tails on the menu, are you?”

Angel shook his head, laughing a little, bitterly. “No rats and alleys this time around, Spike. I’m back to basement living – trading demon killing for a place to stay. Same kind of deal with the butcher for my blood. It’s not like being newly souled and crazed with the guilt of one hundred and fifty years.

“The last three or four years? I’ll admit the soul’s been beating me black and blue on a moment-by-moment basis for them. If I could… I mean… ”

For the first time, Spike grew agitated. “Oi, git. Shut your gob. You don’t get to apologize to me. Not now, not for that – not so soon. Maybe not ever. Not what I came for, anyway.”

Angel held up his hands in placation. “All right, you’re right. Apologies won’t change things or make them better. Sorry.” He shrugged. “You know what I mean. Anyway, if you’re still interested, I do realize how much I’ve lost. Friends, I mean. But I’m getting used to it. Figuring out just where I went wrong in the first place.”

“S’good, then. At least the Tribunal’s cobbler work did more’n hurt you. Buffy’ll be relieved.” 

Surprised at Spike’s unvoiced concern, Angel found himself curious as to how the younger vampire spent his time. “Well, my unlife is an open book. What about you?” he asked. “Has Buffy managed to make a kept demon out of William the Bloody?”

“ _Spike_ is very much a kept demon. Kept, coddled, loved, wanted, and treated with respect. Slayer an’ me freelance for the new Council these days.” He laughed. “Seems Rupert finally managed to cough up salaries for Slayers an’ various ‘consultants’ as they’re needed.

“Between all m’human schooling an’ the demon languages and lore Angelus managed to beat into me, ol’ Spike’s become a valuable commodity. They get the fists and fangs, too – sometimes the lady an’ me step in to teach the fledglings a thing or two ‘bout fighting.

“Best part of my unlife is just being a family vamp. Watchin’ my Niblet grow up peaceful an’ happy, annoyin’ all and sundry for shits an’ giggles… s’all good.”

The urge to return to his Slayer battled with Spike’s desire to brag. He wasn’t fooling himself; rubbing his rich, full life with Buffy in Angel’s face was a bonus, if not the entire reason for his visit, but he’d just about had enough.

Spike nudged Angel up, just a gentle shove of the elbows that said ‘c'mon, let's get up and walk.’ Plenty of night left and ground to cover.

As they wandered about, Angel asked if this visit was the only reason Spike is in Los Angeles. Spike told him they'd gotten a small place in LA for the time being. Just taking a break from everything for a month or so. Resting a bit. - no patrolling, so they wouldn't run into each other. With most of Europe once more his playground, the relative anonymity of LA was welcomed.

Angel stopped mid-stride; the whole scenario of Spike seeking him out for mindless chatter and not retribution not sitting well. The elder vampire was determined to get to the bottom of things.

“Look, Spike… I know I don’t deserve this second chance at redemption. You would have been well within reason to have demanded my final death from the Tribunal. Hell, I would have asked for yours if the situation was reversed. Would you mind giving me an explanation? I mean, after all I’d put you and Buffy through… “

Spike clapped him on the shoulder once, before distancing himself slightly. “First of all, Angel, I am not now nor will I ever be you. S’the one thing you never learned… I react to things my own way – not yours.

“As for why I’m here? When all is said and done, a piece of paper doesn’t change who family really is. Your blood will always flow in my veins. Without you I would have been dust in an English grave near a century ago. So I care. _We_ care. And one day, we hope…” Spike turned away, his emotions getting the better of him, and walked off into the cover of darkness.

Leaving a puzzled Angel behind, alone again.

Because Spike knew, and hoped that Angel would one day soon realize... it’s not the big mistakes you make that ruin lives – Hell is all in the details.


End file.
